


Clueless Crush Club

by Rubyleaf



Category: DAYS (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Dense Tsukushi, Desperate Idiot Ooshiba, F/M, Hoshina is somehow both lovesick AND dense, Humor, Kimishita and Ubukata want nothing to do with this nonsense, Lovesick Kazama, M/M, Matchmaking, Odd Friendships, Pining – The Funny Version, What Can Possibly Go Wrong?, Wingman Plot, oblivious love interests, smitten boys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-29
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2019-07-20 07:43:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 94,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16132778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rubyleaf/pseuds/Rubyleaf
Summary: What do three lovesick boys do to get closer to their hopelessly oblivious objects of affection? Team up with each other, of course.





	1. Three Letters

_Dear Tsukushi,_

_This is probably a weird way to tell you, but I’d just like you to know that I really, really like you. Like, yeah, obviously I do, you’re my best friend and nothing’s ever gonna change that. But in the past couple months I realized that there’s more to it than that and–_

Kazama gave a groan, crumpling up the paper and tossing it over his shoulder where it joined all the other crumpled-up papers lying gathered on the floor around the trash can. This wouldn’t do, he thought. This sounded way too awkward and not like himself at all. He should be smooth when telling Tsukushi his feelings, suave and charming! And usually he could do that without problems. So why on earth did he suddenly keep sounding like a lovesick idiot no matter what he wrote?

Oh right. It might have something to do with him being a lovesick idiot.

With a sigh he sank backwards into his chair, crossing his arms behind his head and kicking his legs. Seriously, he was stuck here. Whose bright idea had this love letter thing been again? Oh yeah, his. And that of that stupid TV show. Since when did he listen to the pre-Valentine’s Day advice of TV shows? It just showed how desperate he was getting.

Well, he thought, it wasn’t like he had to do this. If this didn’t work out, he could always confess his feelings some other way.

\---

_Dear Kimishita,_

__~~it wasn’t my idea to write this stupid letter~~  
 ~~My sis made me do this~~  
 ~~you’re an asshole, but I don’t hate y~~  
 ~~I like you, go on a date wi~~  
I LOVE YOU ASSHAT

Ooshiba stared at the paper, then at his increasingly pencil-smudged fingers. Somehow he wasn’t satisfied. He had been writing and scribbling out words on this stupid piece of paper for almost an hour, and he still didn’t like it. And now the paper didn’t even look pretty anymore. There was no way he could still put that in Kimishita’s locker. Knowing the guy, he would take it for a prank and throw it out without reading it at all.

Honestly, this was stupid. Love letters sucked. Nobody wrote them anymore except, like, smitten girls in seventh grade or something. There was no way a cool, manly guy like him should have to resort to confessing his feelings to someone like  _this_!

His fingers pressed down on the pencil in his hand. That stupid show. And his stupid sister for watching it and then blabbing about it to him! Valentine’s Day love letter challenge? That was the lamest thing he had ever heard. And why on earth was that challenge for guys and not girls?

This sucked. And yet here he was. Because he genuinely had no idea how else to tell that asshole.

\---

_Dear Ubukata,_

Hoshina twirled the pen in his hands, gazing at the all but blank sheet of paper. For half an eternity now he had been trying to come up with the right words, and words still failed him. What was he even supposed to write? His feelings, probably. Not that he knew what they were. Why, this entire letter hadn’t even been his idea in the first place.

Well, maybe he did know a little about his feelings about Ubukata Chikako. He had a great deal of admiration for her, and he wanted to get to know her better. They had met a handful of times since the nationals, and he was quite... fascinated with her; he wanted to see her more, talk to her more, and he often caught himself counting down the days or hours until they met again. His teammates said it was a crush. He wasn’t so sure. At the very least, not sure enough to try something like this.

No, this letter hadn’t been his idea. It was all Aiba’s, calling him out of nowhere and babbling on and on about this... what was it called... love letter challenge that was all the buzz for this Valentine’s Day and how he should absolutely send one to Ubukata. Hoshina had tried to protest, but Aiba had cut him off, roped his teammates into this mess, and now he wasn’t allowed to leave this desk until he had composed this silly letter. He sighed. This was ridiculous. A love letter, for lack of a better word, should come from the heart and not from well-meaning friends forcing him to do a so-called challenge.

Oh well, he thought. It wasn’t like he would ever send this letter in the first place.

\---

February had begun, and that meant that something was in the air that romantics might call love; more bitter people would call it a constant reminder of how single they were. Red and pink hearts popped up everywhere in the shops, chocolates in fancy boxes were on big display, and magazines and television brought out the cake recipes and love stories. It was the same thing as every year; or rather, it would be if it wasn’t for one TV show that had somehow gone viral.

The subject of boys giving their crushes something for Valentine’s Day wasn’t new; overseas it was perfectly commonplace, and in the past few years it had been discussed in different places time and time again. This year, however, was different. This time it hadn’t been a discussion alone. Instead the host of the show had given a challenge to the boys and men in the audience: to write their crush a love letter and confess their feelings to them on Valentine’s Day, if they dared.

There was controversy, of course. Some said that Valentine’s was fine as it was, and for giving crushes and girlfriends gifts there was always White Day. Others found it unfair that the girls got to choose who they wanted to give something and boys only got to give something back. Discussions spawned, and the challenge spread further and further. And suddenly the boys had much more to talk about than the question who they would get chocolates from.

So, of course, it was only a matter of time until the discussion reached the Seiseki soccer club.

It was Kazama who brought it up one frosty afternoon when they were all gathered on the pitch, shivering and waiting for practice to start. The third-years were all but gone; the rest of them had slowed down a little in their work, allowing themselves a bit of relaxation before the team changed shape again with the new school year. “Guys,” he said to the other first-years standing gathered around him, “did you hear about that love letter thing?”

Their reactions were as varied as they were immediate. Tsukushi blushed and nodded. Nitobe shrugged like only one in an already established relationship could shrug off the debate. Nakijin smiled awkwardly; Kurusu and Shiratori gave long-suffering groans.

“Not this again!” Kurusu burst out, raking his hands through his hair. “I’ve had enough of this conversation! I’m stressed enough already!”

“Why,” Kazama said without missing a beat, “you gonna ask somebody out?”

Nitobe pointed at him over his shoulder, not batting an eye. “He’s planning to write to his girlfriend,” he said. “He’s been freaking out over the letter for days.”

“She’s not my girlfriend! Nitobe, you traitor!”

“Hey, at least you have a girl to write to!” Shiratori shot back. “My crush has a boyfriend!”

Kazama laughed, nudging him in the ribs. “Since when does that stop you? Don’t be a coward, Shiratori, send her the letter anyway!”

“You’re the one to talk! You can get any girl you want just by looking at her!”

Kazama’s smile turned lopsided. Involuntarily his eyes flitted over to Tsukushi, who thankfully didn’t notice. Any girl, yeah, he thought. Unfortunately a girl was really not what he wanted right now.

He gave himself a shake. Putting his grin back in place, he struck a cutesy pose, winked at the group and chimed, “Of course I can! That’s the power of being adorable!”

The others groaned. Kurusu jabbed him in the side, and Shiratori flipped him off. Only Tsukushi gazed up at him with excitedly sparkling eyes as if he had just done the coolest thing ever. “Of course you can, Kazama-kun!”

“See? This guy knows what’s up!” Forcing down the flutter of his heartbeat and the butterflies in his stomach, Kazama looped an arm around Tsukushi’s shoulders and pulled him against his side, making a face at the others over his head. “You guys are just jealous.”

The others exchanged glances and sighed. “Tsukamoto, you’re spoiling him,” Nitobe said. “Keep being this nice to him and his ego will get as big as Ooshiba-senpai’s.”

“What about me?”

They jumped. Kazama spun around and found himself staring directly at Kiichiman, who had somehow popped up out of nowhere at the mention of his name.

“Oh, Kiichiman!” Kazama chirped, grinning innocently as he nonchalantly steered the subject away from Nitobe’s mess-up. “We were just talking about the love letter thing, you heard about that?” He tilted his head, turning his smile so innocent one might have seen his halo. “You planning to send any letters this Valentine’s?”

Behind him the others audibly sighed with relief, but only for a moment. Kiichiman’s face grew surprised, then annoyed, then he rapidly turned a deep tomato-red. “Nope,” he said. “Love letters suck.”

“Aw.” Kazama pulled his lips into a pout. “So no letter for Kimishita-kun?”

If it was possible for Kiichiman to blush even redder than before, he did now. “Sh-Sh-Shut up!” he whisper-shouted, pressing a finger to his lips. “’Course not! Like I’d ever send a love letter to that asshole! I hate his guts!”

“You’re pretty red for someone who hates him,” Kazama replied without batting an eye.

Kiichiman glared at him for a very long moment, looking as if he was seriously considering punching him in the face. Then he gave a huff and stomped off.

Shaking his head and smirking, Kazama gazed after him before turning around to find the entire squad staring at him in a mixture of fear and disapproval.

“What?” he asked. “Everyone knows he likes him.”

“Except Kimishita-senpai,” Nakijin muttered with a worried glance over his shoulder.

Kurusu groaned at both of them. “We get it, but dude! Are you trying to get yourself killed? You could–”

“Ah! Kimishita-kun!”

Everyone except Tsukushi and Kazama himself froze on the spot as Kimishita turned around, clearly not yet in the mood for human interaction. “What?”

“You gonna send any love letters for Valentine’s Day?”

Kimishita didn’t miss a beat. “I’d rather die.”

“Dang, should’ve expected that one,” Kazama laughed as Kimishita walked past them, meeting up with Kiichiman and quickly engaging him in a heated discussion. “Looks like Kiichiman will have to do it himself–  _ow_! What the hell, manager?!”

While he was speaking Ubukata had come up to him from behind, rapidly hitting him over the head with her notebook. “Shut up!” she said as Kazama spun around to send her an accusing glare. “Practice is about to start, you’re distracting everyone!”

Kazama stuck out his tongue. Tsukushi perked up where he stood at his side, smiling and greeting her with a slight bow. “Good morning, Ubukata-san!” he said. “We were talking about Valentine’s Day! Are you hoping for any letters this year?”

Blinking, Ubukata stared at him, then at Kazama, then at the idiot trio and Nakijin before turning back to Tsukushi with a slight blush and a roll of her eyes. “As if,” she said. “Valentine’s Day is just an invention to sell chocolates and flowers anyway.”

“Ouch, that’s cold.” Kazama mock-pouted back at her. “So no chocolates for the team from our sweet, sweet manager?”

Ubukata scowled up at him in disgust. “Not for you.”

“Hey, rude!”

“It’s okay, Kazama-kun!” Tsukushi piped in, meeting his gaze with earnest blue eyes and a blush on his cheeks. “I’ll give you half of mine!”

Kazama’s heart skipped a beat, his face heating up as he realized the full implications of that sentence and then rapidly reminded himself that Tsukushi couldn’t possibly have noticed them too. “Tsukushi...”

“Now wait just a minute! I never agreed to give  _anyone_  chocolates!”

Kazama squinted at her. “Stingy.”

“You shut up! You’re fifty-seven people! I don’t have that kind of money!”

Laughing, Kazama jumped back as she aimed for his head with a hit, pulling Tsukushi with him to avoid any collateral damage. “I got it, I got it,” he said. “No chocolates for us from the demon lady. But maybe the demon lady can give some to somebody else?” He batted his eyelashes, closely watching her reaction as he continued. “Like, I dunno, maybe... that false eyelash dude from Touin who’s been so nice to her lately?”

Ubukata choked on air, turning a peachy pink. “What are you implying?” she burst out. “For the last time, there’s nothing going on between Hoshina-san and me! Can’t two people just be friends?”

With that she turned on her heel, grumbling something about shutting up and paying attention as she stormed off to the front. Kazama gazed after her, shaking his head. Poor Hoshina, he thought. Having a crush on someone this stubborn really had to suck. Not that he really understood what he saw in that flat-chested, violent demon in the first place.

Then again, he thought as he glanced down at Tsukushi, he really wasn’t in a position to worry about other people’s love life. Before he tried anything else he should probably do something about his own feelings.

Panicking? Who was panicking?

\---

And so it was that a few hours later Kazama sat hunched over his desk, groaning and crumpling up paper after paper as he grew more stressed and frustrated than any homework had ever made him. There was so much he felt for Tsukushi, so much he wanted to tell him and he didn’t know where to start. Part of him just wanted to spill it all with no explanation. But that would be weird. Right?

Ah, damn it. What was up with him? He had never had trouble asking people out before, so what on earth was this garbage?

Then again, he mused, before meeting Tsukushi he had only ever had crushes before. He had never truly been in love, head over heels, so utterly smitten that someone’s sole presence in his life made him feel like the most blessed person in the world. And he had never fallen for a close friend anymore. Before meeting Tsukushi he had simply trusted his luck, shrugging off his rejections with the thought that the person hadn’t mattered that much to him anyway. He had never had much to lose. Right now he felt like he had everything to lose if he screwed this up.

He was stuck here. He really was. For months and months now he had been aware of his feelings for Tsukushi, and they weren’t going away. If anything they were getting worse. And Tsukushi was, at best, happily oblivious and dense as a brick. Worst case, he wasn’t interested and didn’t even swing that way. Not that he wanted to think about that right now. He was already freaking out over the fact that he had essentially been lying to Tsukushi about the nature of his feelings for months on end; he didn’t have the time to worry about anything else on top of that.

Well, the last bit, at least, had been his fault. It wasn’t like his feelings for Tsukushi had come entirely without warning after all. From the very beginning he had found him cute, very much his type in boys; but unfortunately Tsukushi had been as attractive as he was oblivious to any and all attempts at flirting, and somehow their bond had turned into a very good friendship instead. And for some time Kazama couldn’t have been happier. For some time he had even believed that they were better as friends and forgotten about attraction entirely.

And then, of course, he had caught feelings. For real this time. Seriously, heart-poundingly, butterfly-flutteringly, mushily real.

Soft and fluffy. That was how it felt. A constant giddiness, the urge to burst out “I love you” at everything Tsukushi did and said, the desire to randomly hug him and snuggle up to him for the next minutes to years. The sudden but lasting desire to stay with him forever and ever.

_Oh, wow. I got it bad, man._

And yet why could he still not manage to write all that into a stupid letter?

_Probably because I don’t wanna overwhelm Tsukushi by sounding like a completely lovesick weirdo?_

So how exactly could he tone down the weirdness without exaggerating into the other direction and coming off as awkward and over-cautious?

Before he could follow that thought any further Kazama’s phone buzzed, and he groaned. He had  _just_  been getting close to having some sort of idea. Now he could kiss it goodbye again. Whoever had just texted him had better–

A glance at the phone screen revealed that the text was from Tsukushi.

–better know there couldn’t have been a better timing to text him.

_Good afternoon, Kazama-kun!_  the message read as Kazama opened it and swallowed it up with his eyes, an expectant grin on his face.  _I hope you don’t mind me messaging you right now?_

Kazama flopped forward onto his desk, burying his face in his arms and kicking his legs, taking a moment to get the giddy feeling of happiness and gratitude under control. He was about this close to telling Tsukushi he never minded him messaging him ever, because he would put aside literally everything just to talk to him. He didn’t, of course. What he wrote instead was,  _ofc i dont mind u msging me u know i never do bro <3 hi!! what’s up!_

Tsukushi started typing a reply immediately, and Kazama smiled at the screen. He could vividly imagine the look on his best friend’s face as he read his reply, the way his eyes lit up as his cheeks turned red with joy, a bright, cheerful, beaming smile spreading all over his face. Even after all these months Tsukushi always seemed so  _happy_  to talk to him. He always looked so excited, so enthusiastic that it was contagious, and after years of forgetting how it felt Kazama had discovered that he was still capable of eliciting that kind of joy from someone just by being their friend. That smile had saved him, he thought. Until he had seen it he had almost forgotten how it felt to be happy with himself.

_Oh, I’m glad to hear that!_  Tsukushi’s reply said as it popped up on the screen.  _Well, not much is up, I just felt like talking to you... My mom went out to meet with friends and it’s so quiet at home, you know?_

Kazama read the message twice and started beaming with pride. Tsukushi had come such a long way, he thought. At the beginning of their friendship he had been completely incapable of texting him first, and even months in he had always needed a good reason to start a conversation. And now here he was, coming to him to talk just because he felt like it and not apologizing or asking if he was a nuisance.

_oh sure!_  Kazama wrote back as fast as his fingers allowed.  _id love to talk to u! we can even call if u want :o_

_Really? That would be great! Thanks so much, Kazama-kun! Give me a moment!_

Dangling his legs, Kazama grinned to himself as his phone rang and he picked it up immediately. “Hey!” he said into the speaker. “That was fast, man. Remember when you used to be scared of phone calls?”

A warm-voiced little laugh came from the other end of the line, and Kazama closed his eyes, vividly imagining Tsukushi’s slightly sheepish but happy smile. “Well,” the familiar, beloved voice came from the speaker, “truth be told, I’m still scared of calling most people...” There was a determined little huff. “But I’m slowly getting there!”

“You really are, dude! Give it a couple more months and you’re gonna be calling people like nobody’s business!” Kazama laughed. “I’m so proud of you, man!”

Tsukushi gave an awkward giggle. “You think? Um – thank you! I mean, I’m not so sure but I’ll do my best!”

Smiling, Kazama closed his eyes, completely relaxed and warm and happy. “You always do,” he said affectionately. “When was the last time you didn’t do your best on something, anyway?”

“W-Well, um... I think you overestimate me, Kazama-kun...” Kazama could almost hear Tsukushi fidgeting. “Remember, before high school I never really had any friends because–”

“Hey, that doesn’t count. You were anxious. And surrounded by jerks.” The image of those douchebags from their first meeting flashed up in Kazama’s mind, and he shook it off. “I was lonely as hell in middle school too, remember?”

“Well, yes, but–” Tsukushi abruptly stopped in his tracks, as if realizing what he had been about to say and trailing off mid-sentence.

“But... what?”

“But, um...” Tsukushi mumbled, audibly quieter and more awkward than before. “But... well... you’ve always been popular with girls, haven’t you? I–I–I know it’s not the same! Just, um...”

Kazama opened his eyes, a tingly sensation stirring up in his chest, a sense of apprehension. “Yeah,” he said, wondering where Tsukushi was going with this. “I was never really close with any of them though. They mostly went for me ‘cause of my looks.”

“I’m sure that’s not true!”

He blinked. Tsukushi’s voice had changed, fully regaining its determination, along with an almost heated sense of stubbornness. “You really are handsome, Kazama-kun,” he said. “But you’re also a very nice, fun, cool person! I’m sure they liked all that about you too!”

Kazama froze. For a second he thought and felt nothing except the acute sensation of his face heating up.

Then he started laughing. “Dude,” he burst out, “you think too highly of me! Maybe that’s true now, but middle school was my awkward phase. Seriously, I was kind of a jerk until...”  _Until I met you_ , he thought. “Until I got into Seiseki.”

“Still... You’ve always been a cool person,” Tsukushi said, more thoughtfully now. “You were just with the wrong people in middle school. I’m different.” He gave a small laugh. “I have to try hard to be liked by people. But it’s scary.”

Kazama wanted to shout at him. He wanted to yell at him that none of this was true, that Tsukushi was a wonderful, kind, caring, adorable person who drew everyone’s hearts to him like a magnet, warm and bright and sunny. But before he could say a single word Tsukushi spoke again, and his words drew all thoughts of scolding him from Kazama’s mind.

“By the way, Kazama-kun, all this talk of girls reminded me... You never said if you’re planning to send any letters for Valentine’s Day, did you?”

Kazama gave a jolt, suddenly wide awake. “Ah,” he blabbered intelligently while racking his brain for an easy way out, “uh, y’know, about that...”

“A-Ah, um, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to! It’s fine–”

“No, no, no, it’s not a problem! I can tell you.” Taking a deep breath to try and calm down his pounding heartbeat, Kazama proceeded, “The thing is... there’s actually someone I wanna send one to.”

A moment’s silence at the other end of the line. Kazama held his breath. Part of him wondered if Tsukushi’s response would reveal his feelings, whether or not he would accept the confession. Then, finally, Tsukushi said, “Really? I had no idea!”

Well, great. That answer revealed nothing.

“Yeah!” Kazama said, masking his insecurity with a secretive, slightly flirty tone. “I haven’t really told anyone, but I really love this person, so no better time to confess my feelings than this whole love letter challenge, right?”

Tsukushi’s tone remained unchangingly cheerful. “Yes, I think so too!”

Kazama hesitated for a second. Then he drew a deep breath and continued with the question he had been meaning to ask since he had brought up the topic at practice.

“And... what about you, Tsukushi?” he said. “Are you gonna write love letters to anyone this Valentine’s?”

“Um... no, I don’t have anyone in mind.”

Kazama felt like he had been stabbed in the heart.

“O-Oh,” he said after a short pause. “Okay. That’s cool too.”

“Well, there’s always next year! For now friends are more important to me, you know?” Tsukushi went on, seemingly oblivious to Kazama’s predicament. “But good luck to you with your love letter, Kazama-kun!”

“Uhm. Uh. Thank you...”

“Ah! My mom just returned, and she says she brought food!” Tsukushi burst out, and for once Kazama was grateful for the interruption. “She’s calling me to dinner... Sorry, Kazama-kun, I have to leave! See you tomorrow at school?”

“Sure,” Kazama replied with a weary smile. “Enjoy your meal, bro. Tell your mom I said hi!”

“Will do! Good night, Kazama-kun!”

“Nighty night!”

Kazama hung up and collapsed face-first on the desk.

Maybe, he thought, the love letter thing wasn’t that much of a good idea after all.


	2. With Some Help from Meddling Friends

This was going nowhere.

With a furious huff Ooshiba abandoned his attempts to write a love letter and flopped down on his bed, crossing his arms and sulking. This was stupid. Writing a love letter to Kimishita was stupid. Why on earth should he confess his feelings to that insufferable jerk? So maybe he liked him, sure. But that didn’t mean he had to suffer the humiliation of askig him out!

And besides, he thought, even if he absolutely had to confess, it didn’t have to be with a love letter. He could always do the cool, manly thing and yell his feelings in his face or grab his collar and kiss him out of the blue. Love letters were lame and he was lame to have ever thought of writing one. Kimishita would find it even more lame. That guy didn’t have a romantic bone in his body. He didn’t even accept Valentine’s Day chocolates just because he said he couldn’t afford the White Day gifts in return. Cheapskate.

Grumbling, Ooshiba rolled over, glaring at the wall as if it bore any responsibility for his current situation. Stupid Kimishita. Stupid feelings. Couldn’t he have fallen in love with someone less insufferable? He was the hottest, most talented guy in the entire Seiseki soccer club, so why on earth did he have to ignore his countless fangirls (which he undoubtedly had, even if he had never met one) and lose his heart to  _that_?

It wasn’t like Kimishita was all that great in the first place. He wasn’t nice, and he wasn’t too handsome either. Not ugly, exactly, but nowhere near as handsome as Ooshiba. His hair was lame, and his glasses were stupid, and his fashion sense could only favorably be described as atrocious. And he was so annoying, always criticizing people and yelling at them and calling them names and going on and on about ideals and hard work and using your head and complaining about everything that seemed even remotely fun. A nagging pain in the ass was what he was. A stupid nerd in stupid glasses.

So, why? What on earth had gone wrong enough in his brain to make him start liking this guy?

Maybe it was Kimishita’s brilliance, Ooshiba thought. He might be a nerd, yes, but he was smart too, piercingly bright and always able to come up with a solution or explanation for everything. And he was kind. Grumpy and irritable and allergic to affection, but kind nonetheless, always helping everyone who needed it even while complaining. Ooshiba of all people knew that better than anyone. He would never have come this far if it hadn’t been for Kimishita Atsushi stepping into his life.

And besides, he mused in mild embarrassment, he was cute too. Pretty-faced, green-eyed, prone to blushing and pulling his lips into all sorts of grimaces, well-built and lean with no gram of unnecessary weight like high-performance racing gear. Ooshiba liked the lightness and efficiency of his movements when he ran, the shape of his slim hands and the quickness and precision of all their moves. But he also liked his dark lashes, his narrow face, the dark, shiny waves of his hair that stuck out like spikes at the back of his head.

So, there was all that. And now Kimishita was his vice-captain and they were stuck together pretty much by default, and Ooshiba had a problem. A humongous out-of-proportion blob of a crush problem.

The only upside to this arrangement, he thought, was that he had finally got Kimishita back from that oh-so-amazing Mizuki who had graduated from the team to be oh-so-amazing somewhere else. Everything else sucked. Feelings sucked. Crushes sucked. Kimishita sucked. Love letters sucked. Valentine’s Day sucked.

His entire life sucked, because he still wasn’t an inch closer to figuring out how on earth to let Kimishita know he liked him.

_What to do..._

His phone buzzed with a message. Ooshiba lifted his head and groaned, even as his heart skipped a beat. He knew who that message was from. Even without checking the screen he could always tell when an incoming message was from Kimishita.

Groaning, he lifted himself off the bed, just far enough to grab his phone and flop back down. With a pounding heart he unlocked his phone and read the message. It was indeed from Kimishita.  _Have you heard back from Nakijin yet? Inohara-senpai just hit me up with something else to tell him._

Ooshiba shifted on the mattress, half happy, half disappointed. Of course it was about that. Ever since Nakijin had taken over as Seiseki’s main goalkeeper things had been a little bumpy for him, the confidence and willpower he had displayed during nationals wavering once more. He and Kimishita had finally decided to message him about it – Kimishita’s idea; he had said the first-year might be less comfortable talking about such a sensitive subject face to face.

_nope_ , he wrote back.  _hes prob busy idk_

_Let’s hope so_ , came Kimishita’s reply.  _Otherwise he might be avoiding the conversation, and that’d be a problem. Then again Nakijin isn’t really the type._

There was a pause, and then a second message popped up.  _If you can reach him_ , it said,  _tell him that Inohara-senpai used to be so tense in his first year that he once headbutted the goalpost in a match trying to communicate with his teammates._

Ooshiba cracked a grin. He had heard that story before, of course; half of Seiseki had. But it was the perfect thing to tell Nakijin right now.

_sure thingn_

He paused, thinking for a moment, and then he added,  _whered u dig up that shit_

_I asked Inohara-senpai for advice, stupid. He says he’ll stay out of it himself because he doesn’t want Nakijin to get embarrassed but gave me some tips. Where did you think I got it?_

Ooshiba blinked at Kimishita’s reply, then he smirked. He could almost hear the grumpily embarrassed, defensive tone Kimishita always used when he had been caught caring.  _so u do know how to b nice~_

_Don’t get all smug, idiot! I’m the vice-captain now. I’m just doing my job._

Uh-oh, Ooshiba thought, an exclamation mark. Kimishita meant business. And Ooshiba had officially succeeded at getting under his skin.

_acept a complement,_  he typed, more to mess with him some more than because he was actually angry.  _ungrateful asshole_

_Ungrateful asshole? I’ll take that. At least I’m an ungrateful asshole who can fucking spell!_

_MY SPELINGS PERFECT EXCUSE U_

_Perfect my ass! You’re borderline illiterate!_

_wtf did u call me_

_Should I say unlettered instead? Ungrammared? Uneducated? Ignorant?_

Ooshiba gave a huff, actually offended this time.  _UR JST MAKIGN UP WORDS_

_Google it if you don’t believe me. But not before you’ve talked to Nakijin._

Scowling, Ooshiba flipped a middle finger at the phone, forgetting for the moment that Kimishita couldn’t see him.  _sure_

_And in case it doesn’t help,_  Kimishita added after a moment’s pause,  _send him to me. I’ll tell him a few things about insecurities._

His tone had changed, Ooshiba realized. Kimishita had turned fully serious again, serious and almost gentle. Naturally, he thought. Kimishita had been in a similar situation before. He knew how it was to feel insecure about his own skills and ability to communicate with his teammates, and he didn’t want Nakijin to go through the same thing. Despite all his grumbling and the angry complaints, Kimishita did care.

_k_ , he replied, fighting back the sudden desire to pull Kimishita into his arms and fight off any and all insecurities that tried to come for him.  _dont be too harsh lol_

_No promises._  Ooshiba could almost see the wry smirk through Kimishita’s reply.  _Tell me how it goes._

Ooshiba rolled from side to side on the bed, then he came to rest on his back, grinning to himself and dropping the phone on his face. With a yelp he picked it back up and rubbed his face, but the giddy feeling wasn’t gone. He still couldn’t stop grinning. Suddenly he felt like he knew what to write in his love letter.

_Dear Kimishita,_

_I really like you. You’re kind of an asshole but you’re my favorite vice-captain ever and the best playmaker in the world. You always act grumpy but I know you’re a really good guy, and I like that about you. I like spending time with you a lot too. And I think you’re pretty, even in your lame-ass glasses and ugly shirts. Please go out with me._

_Ooshiba_

He stared at his letter. Read it once. Twice. Then he made a face and crumpled it up to toss it into the wastebasket.

This was lame as hell. He was so not sending it!

\---

Hoshina twirled his pen, staring at his half-blank page and then at his all-too-eager friends with a sigh. “I’m stuck,” he said, covering his letter attempt with his hands to shield it from their prying eyes. Love letters, he thought, were something highly personal and meant for the eyes of their recipient alone.

“What do you mean, you’re stuck?” Kaidou replied, not-so-subtly trying to push aside Hoshina’s hand. “It’s easy. Just describe how much you like her. And don’t forget to add lots of compliments, girls love that!”

Hoshina furrowed his brow. “Hm,” he muttered. Compliments, huh... he should be able to do that much. There were a lot of things about Ubukata that were worth complimenting, her intelligence, her determination and dedication, the love she had both for soccer and her team. And her appearance too, he supposed. If given the chance he would happily tell her how much he admired her.

The first part, however... might prove a little more complicated.

“How much I like her, you say,” he mused, still twirling his pen in his hands. “Well... I’m not sure.”

For a beat of silence all three of his companions simply stared at him, blank-faced. Then they all simultaneously burst out, “Say what?”

“You don’t know?” Atomu exclaimed, his eyes wide with disbelief.

“But it’s so obvious!” Kaidou groaned.

“Yeah!” Ura joined in. “Everyone can see you have a huge crush on her!”

Hoshina stared from one to the other, unsure what to think. They all nodded.

“I... do?” he asked slowly. “Or rather... does it look like I do?”

They nodded again, more vigorously this time.

“But I don’t have any feelings for her,” Hoshina replied, increasingly puzzled. “I like and admire her, but we’re just friends.”

The other three exchanged a glance. Then Kaidou reached out to place a brotherly hand on his shoulder and sighed. “Taku, I love you and everything, but with all due respect, you’re an idiot.”

Hoshina blinked.

“I really didn’t expect this from you,” Atomu piped in. “Like, you’re so smart and everything. I thought it’d be easy for you to just make a connection to the last time you had a crush.”

Silence. The upperclassmen stared at Atomu with varying degrees of confusion, disbelief and exasperation.

“Uh... Guys?” Atomu replied, looking back and forth between them. “Did I say something wrong?”

“Well,” Kaidou replied with a slightly pained face, “actually...”

“Wait. Wait.” Atomu’s eyes were growing rounder and rounder. “Taku has had a crush before...” He made an awkward pause. “Right?”

Kaidou and Ura both looked off into different directions. “Uh...”

“I don’t really have time for love,” Hoshina replied in their stead. “Soccer comes first.”

Atomu gave him a long look, then he cracked half a grin. “I believe that,” he said. “But still... You must’ve had someone you liked at some point, right? Someone you always caught yourself watching, someone who gave you butterflies, who you wanted to get to know better and spend time with and... all that stuff?”

Hoshina furrowed his brow, mentally going through the list. The traits didn’t seem to fit anyone in particular. Sure, there had been girls he had felt sympathy for in the past, as well as girls who had confessed their feelings to him, only to be politely rejected in favor of focusing on soccer. But nothing really serious. Soccer had always been his number one priority, and he had always ended up nipping all budding feelings before they could become a distraction. The last time he hadn’t done that must have been... very long ago.

“Well,” he said slowly, “I had a bit of a childhood crush on my preschool teacher, if that counts.”

The others groaned.

“That doesn’t count,” Ura said. “That’s puppy love!”

Atomu blinked at him, then he grinned. “So basically you’re a total newbie in the romance department?”

“If you put it that way... I didn’t think it was important is all!”

“Taku...”

Kaidou’s eyes had grown misty, his expression a mixture of amazement, pity and adoration. “You’re so innocent,” he said with a sniffle. “I almost don’t have the heart to make you keep writing that love letter anymore!”

“I know right?” Ura burst out. “What’s that Aiba thinking, trying to corrupt our pure captain like this!”

“Guys, I’m not–”

“You shush, you pure-hearted maiden!” Without warning Kaidou tackled him with a hug, nearly knocking him over. “You’re nowhere near ready to write a love letter! Just let all of us guide you through this, okay?”

“I... don’t think I need guidance.” Hoshina stiffened where he sat, but he awkwardly returned the hug. “But if you insist, well, thank you.”

\---

“Kazama, Tsukamoto,” Kiichiman’s voice called over from the side of the pitch. “Come over here.”

Kazama and Tsukushi stopped, turning around where they had been on their way back to the locker room. Exchanging a glance, they followed the sound of the voice to where Kiichiman stood beckoning to them with a lordly gesture, flanked by Kimishita-kun with his hands on his hips. They almost looked like a real captain and vice-captain duo now. At least for the approximately five seconds they could stay like this without picking a fight.

“‘Sup,” Kazama said as he and Tsukushi came jogging back to join them. “You guys got something to talk to us about?”

Kiichiman nodded. “Sure.” He struck a very self-important pose, looking Kazama and Tsukushi up and down as if trying to size them. “It’s about the future of the team. Now that our ex-captain’s gone, Seiseki’s new three arrows are gonna be us three.”

Kazama smiled expectantly. “So?”

“So...” Kiichiman went on in the same smug tone, then he paused, confusion spreading over his face. “So... what?”

“What do you wanna talk to us about?”

“Oh. Uh. Isn’t that obvious?” Kiichiman’s self-important pose deflated a little. “We gotta discuss stuff. Like strategy. And stuff.”

“Okay,” Kazama replied, not bothering to mess with him any more for now. Pointing at Kimishita, he said instead, “So why’s he here? He gonna play forward too from now on?”

Kimishita gave a small scoff just as Kiichiman’s cheeks turned a telltale shade of pink. “Nope,” he said too quickly and too defensively. “He’s just – uh – he’s the guy who’s gonna give us all the passes, so he’s gotta know what’s going on too.”

_Desperate much?_  Kazama thought, but for once he didn’t say the comment out loud. Not in front of Kimishita. He didn’t have a death wish, for one; and besides, it would be kind of hypocritical for him to call someone out on a desperate crush when he’d never want to be called out on his own desperate crush himself. He wasn’t a complete jerk.

“Most importantly,” Kimishita said instead, “we need to figure out which one of you plays which position.” He paused, pondering. “Or if we’ll keep to three arrows at all in the first place.”

His eyes rested on Tsukushi as he spoke, and immediately Kazama’s protectiveness spiked. “Hey, are you saying he’s not good enough to be an arrow?”

“That’s not what I meant!” Kimishita clicked his tongue. “I’m saying he’s at his best when he’s working separately from the three arrows. Tsukamoto’s not a goal-scorer.” A smirk tugged at his lips. “He’s a wild card.”

Tsukushi blushed at that, bowing slightly and smiling. Kazama grinned with pride. All traces of annoyance at Kimishita had disappeared into nothing.

“Of course that means we have to continue with two arrows, unless one of next year’s freshmen is good enough,” Kimishita continued. “We can’t count on that. In any case we should work on being good enough with just two.”

Kiichiman’s eyes flashed. Striking another pose, he pointed at his chest and declared, “’Course we’re gonna be good enough! We got the new ace right here. And he’s way better than the old one!”

“Really?” Kazama looked from side to side. “Where is he?”

“Asshole–”

“C’mon, dude, you’ve been our strongest decoy!” Kazama said, laughing. “If you become the ace, who’s gonna do the decoying?”

“Um...”

Pausing the beginning fight, everyone turned to look at Tsukushi, who hadn’t spoken in this round at all. “This is only a suggestion,” he said, fidgeting and smiling sheepishly, but not stuttering or blushing, as Kazama noted with pride. “But wouldn’t the simple approach be to use everyone as decoys at some point?”

Kazama smiled encouragingly. Kimishita crossed his arms. “This guy has more common sense than the rest of you dumbasses.”

Tsukushi turned red, shaking his head and raising both hands in protest. But before he could say a word Kiichiman reached out, affectionately ruffling his hair. “That’s right!” he said. “This guy here is smart! That’s why you’re my most favorite student, Tsukamoto.”

Almost on reflex Kazama’s eyes flitted to Kimishita even as he laughed. The vice-captain didn’t look jealous of the affection, he noted with some disappointment, although he had annoyance and second-hand embarrassment written plainly on his face. Kazama didn’t know what he had expected. Kimishita’s liking for affection was equal to that of a feral cat.

“Aw, no fair!” Kazama shouted over Tsukushi’s laughter. “I wanna get pats too! Pat me too, Captain!”

Kiichiman made a face at him. “No way.”

“Mean! You and your weak spot for Tsukushi. You’re spoiling him rotten.” Kazama pulled his lips into a pout and narrowly dodged the hit Kiichiman threw at his head. “But then maybe you wanna try and pat Kimishita-kun–”

Kiichiman glanced at Kimishita as if seriously considering the suggestion for a moment. Kimishita shot him a poisonous glare. “I fucking dare you.”

“Oh yeah? You don’t want my affection, asshole?”

“No, I don’t! Get anywhere near my personal space and I’ll kick your ass!”

Getting up on his tip-toes, Kiichiman leaned forward to shove himself all up in Kimishita’s face. “Oh yeah?”

“Oh yeah!” Kimishita shot back. “Touch me and you’re dead!”

“Then how bout–” Kiichiman took aim and threw a punch at Kimishita’s face– “I touch you like  _this_!”

Kimishita flinched as the fist hit his cheek, leaving a reddening bruise. “Fine,” he hissed out between gritted teeth. “If that’s what you want, then here–”

“Please stop it! Please stop it!”

Both froze in place. Tsukushi had torn himself from Kazama’s side to jump between them, placing a hand on each one’s shoulder. “You can’t fight over something like this,” he said. “You’re captain and vice-captain now, so, um... Please get along, okay?”

The two second-years’ stances relaxed a little, but their combined glares were now fixed on Tsukushi. “Huh?”

An idea flashed through Kazama’s mind. It was probably a very stupid idea, but before he could think it through his body moved on its own, coming to stand next to Tsukushi as he shrank under their glares, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I got this,” he said quietly. “Okay, that’s enough,” he continued as he turned to the fighting duo, who still held each other by their collars. “Kiichiman, you gotta respect people’s personal space. And Kimishita-kun, don’t let him provoke you. Now apologize, shake hands and make up, okay?”

They still glared at him, but now there was hesitation in their faces and stances. “Why do I gotta respect people’s personal space?” Kiichiman asked at last. “A head-pat from me is an honor.”

“People like you more if you listen to them,” Kazama replied. “Especially people like Kimishita-kun.”

Kimishita clicked his tongue and turned his head away. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he muttered under his breath.

Kiichiman shifted and shuffled, his lips pulled into a pout. Then he gave a frustrated huff. “Oversensitive asshole,” he grumbled, turning away from Kimishita. “I’m not gonna listen to you! I’m the captain,  _you_  should listen to  _me_!”

“First of all–”

“Stop it!” Kazama chimed in, torn between laughing and hitting them both. “You both gotta listen to each other to make this work. Now shake hands and–”

Kiichiman crossed his arms. “Nope.”

“Dude–”

“I’m not gonna shake hands with that guy.” Kiichiman nodded in Kimishita’s direction. “He hates being touched. So I’m not gonna touch him.”

Kimishita gasped. His expression meandered between annoyance, amusement and the faintest spark of pride.

“...it’s not like that.”

Kiichiman’s spiteful scowl wobbled and wavered. “What?”

“I said, it’s not like that!” Blushing and clicking his tongue, Kimishita turned away, but Kazama could still see his ears burning red with embarrassment. “I’m fine with some touches! I don’t like over-the-top affection is all. The only one who can pat my head is my old man.”

Blinking, Kiichiman stood confused, visibly processing that information. Finally he managed out, “So I can touch you?”

“Sometimes.” Kimishita still didn’t meet his gaze. “Ask for permission if you’re not sure. You know, like a normal person.”

Kiichiman nodded slowly. Then he raked a hand through his hair and awkwardly extended his right hand. “...’kay.”

Kimishita shook it, and Kazama and Tsukushi exchanged a smile. They would have praised both of them, but something was telling them it would ruin the moment, and they quietly withdrew until the two idiots let go of each other’s hands and returned their attention to the group once more.

“Where were we?” Kiichiman asked like nothing had happened.

Kazama grinned awkwardly. “Uh, before we got sidetracked?”

“The future of the three arrows,” Tsukushi piped in. “Right?”

They got back into the discussion at that, thinking up several plans and formations they could try out, as well as resolving to discuss everything with the coach and get his opinion on everything. Not that they could set anything in stone for now, of course. That all depended on the next school year and the freshmen that came with it. But sometimes it was just better to make some plans beforehand, even if they ended up not needing them in the end.

The second-years were definitely taking Tsukushi seriously as a forward by now, Kazama realized. The way they talked to him and included him in all possibilities like an equal member spoke volumes, treating him like a full-fledged member of the three arrows now that Mizuki was gone. Kazama couldn’t be more proud. But even that pride paled in comparison to the gratitude and burning embarrassment when he realized that the second-years were all but pairing them up.

It was Kimishita’s idea to make greater use of their combination plays, and Kiichiman quickly jumped in to add that they had the perfect communication for all kinds of risky stunts. Kazama had been torn between proudly agreeing and laughing it off, but Tsukushi had smiled and nodded enthusiastically, and he had completely forgotten about any possible reaction except trying not to melt into a mushy pile of goo. By the time he had managed to get himself back together the upperclassmen had given them both a task: Improve their relationship and communication even more so that they could pull off even more impossible tricks.

“Improve our connection,” Kazama mused as they walked out of the club room together, pointedly not looking at Tsukushi. “I wonder what they mean by that. I mean, you’re already my best friend, so what’s even the next step?”

Tsukushi shrugged a little, looking every bit as confused as Kazama pretended to be. “I wonder,” he said. “Maybe family, but to me friends are more important... I think...”

He blushed a little at that, and Kazama could feel his face heating up too. “That’s lucky for me,” he chattered, a little too fast for comfort and laughing a little too much. “I mean, if we had to become family, how’d we do it? It’s not like I can adopt you or something!”

Tsukushi gave a laugh, and Kazama relaxed slightly. “Dude, technically I could once I’m an adult,” he joked. “But I wouldn’t wanna take you from your mom. Besides, if I became your guardian I couldn’t call you bro anymore, right?”

“Maybe my mom could adopt you,” Tsukushi replied, laughing.

_But then we couldn’t date anymore!_  Kazama burst out in his head, but thankfully bit his tongue in time to keep himself from blurting it out loud. “Maybe,” he said instead, looping an arm around him. “Then you’d be my cute little brother and I’d have to protect you!”

Tsukushi stumbled and giggled, reflexively steadying himself on Kazama’s shoulder. He was so close right now, so warm against his side. A bright smile lit up his features, the chubby cheeks red from the cold and laughter, his hair still fluffed up and messy from practice, his blue eyes sparkling. Kazama forced back the urge to kiss him. Instead he reached out and ruffled his hair, messing it up even more.

“I’m kidding, I wouldn’t have to,” he said, sobering up a little as he smiled fondly down at his best friend. “You don’t need me to protect you from anything. But hey, if our captain and vice-captain wanna turn us into a pair of creepy in-sync mind-readers, I’m game.”

Tsukushi nodded enthusiastically. “We should work on it!” He paused, creasing his brow and thinking, then he slowly added, “Um... How do we work on getting closer in the first place?”

“No idea,” Kazama said despite having a very good idea. “Maybe like... playing soccer together more and hanging out more and stuff?”

Tsukushi’s eyes widened with excitement. “That sounds good! I’d love to, um...” He blushed and fidgeted, momentarily trailing off. “Well... are you free this weekend?”

Kazama technically wasn’t, but he had already made up his mind to cancel everything. “Sure!”

A few arrangements later they happily parted ways, and Kazama walked home on clouds. The mental image of Tsukushi’s warm smile and clear laughter and excitedly shining eyes was still brilliant in his mind, and now he had a whole weekend to look forward to, an entire weekend of staying over at Tsukushi’s and not having to share him with anyone except his absolute joy of a mom. He still had no idea how to actually strengthen their connection, like the second-years had demanded, let alone actually confess his feelings, but he was happy. It was an opportunity to spend time with Tsukushi and get to know him even better, and he wouldn’t say no to that if his life depended on it.

He should definitely thank the upperclassmen sometime, he thought. He didn’t know what had driven them to this suggestion, but he was already grateful. If things went on like this, their words might actually give him an excuse to step a little beyond the boundaries of friendship, testing the waters and possibly even finding a way to let Tsukushi know how he felt.

Part of him wondered if Kiichiman had given them this job with that very purpose in mind, maybe because Kazama’s feelings were just that obvious, or maybe in retaliation for the bit of help with Kimishita earlier. If it was the latter, Kazama thought, he’d gladly help more. Play wingman here, provide information there and in return–

Wait a second.

That might just be the most ridiculous, brilliant idea he’d ever had.


	3. Birth of a Conspiracy

Ooshiba was running late that morning. There had been no morning practice today, and he had turned off his alarm while forgetting to set a new one, sleeping until his poor driver had needed to take several shortcuts and violate at least five different traffic laws to get him to school on time. He had barely made it, but by the time he sprinted to the school gates the bell was already ringing, and he hastily changed shoes and shoved his outdoor ones into his shoe locker mid-sprint. Had he been in less of a rush he might have noticed the slip of paper lying next to his shoes; but as it was, it was left in its place for the time being, untouched and unheeded.

The morning went by okay, if he ignored his classmates’ constant talk about Valentine’s Day and the grim reminder that he still didn’t have the faintest idea what to do about the stupid love letter. He didn’t run into Kimishita in the hallways. Talk about bad luck. He already hadn’t been able to see him before classes because of oversleeping and a lack of morning practice, and even though he lurked and lingered for as long as time would allow, he hadn’t caught a single glimpse of the guy all morning. He just hoped he wasn’t sick. If he was absent all day Ooshiba would personally go to his house and punch him.

Then lunch break arrived, and Ooshiba went back to the shoe lockers to check if Kimishita had come to school. If he had, he mused, then his outdoor shoes should be in there. And if he hadn’t, no reason to keep looking out for him here. It was a foolproof strategy.

Well, should be. Foolproof except for the embarrassment of being caught snooping in someone else’s shoe locker, anyway.

Crouching down, Ooshiba searched for Kimishita’s name among the tags, squinting and staring and increasingly confused when he couldn’t find it. It should be right here! Why wasn’t it between these two names when–

Wait a minute.

With no small amount of embarrassment Ooshiba realized that he hadn’t been staring at the lockers of Kimishita’s class but his own.

Well, that jerk’s fault for being in a different class, Ooshiba thought as he stood up. If he knew what was good for him he would become Ooshiba’s classmate. He’d better do that once they entered third year, or else.

Ooshiba was just about to turn and search elsewhere when his eyes fell on something inside his own locker. Something that shouldn’t be there.

A slip of paper?

How long had that been there?

Ooshiba lost no time. Spinning back to his locker mid-stride, he snatched the paper and unfolded it with hasty hands. There was no doubt in his mind that this was some sort of love letter from an adoring fan. Greedy eyes swallowed up the simple lines of text that only read,

_Come up to the school roof during lunch break today. I have to talk to you about something._

_– K_

Ooshiba paused. That was it? Nothing else? No big words? No explanations? No name beyond this mysterious initial? Who the everloving hell was “K” supposed to be, anyway?

Well, it did contain an invitation. And it was for now. All he needed was to follow it.  _Have to talk to you about something_... that could only be a challenge from a worthy rival or the preface of a love confession. Ooshiba snickered to himself. He had always known he was popular. Granted, that timing was a bit odd, but that initial...

Wait. Hadn’t he seen this handwriting before? He was sure he had, even if he couldn’t put a name to it at the moment. And this timing... and “K”...

Kimishita... Kimishita?

Ooshiba darted off like lightning. Now he understood it. He had been so cool and understanding when they made up yesterday that Kimishita had finally realized his feelings for him and called him up there to confess. Problem solved! He never had to worry about that stupid love letter anymore! Kimishita would ask him out and he would proudly say yes and they would live happily ever after until the end of their days.

Grinning, Ooshiba pushed open the door to the roof...

...and found it completely empty. No trace of Kimishita wherever he looked.

His feet skidded to a halt. Stumbling, he stopped in his tracks, his head turning from side to side in search of the familiar dark head of hair, green eyes and stupid glasses. No one. He was up here alone. Had Kimishita chickened out after all? Had he arrived too late?

“Over here, Kiichiman!”

He followed the voice around the corner. That wasn’t Kimishita’s voice but Kazama’s, for whatever reason. What was Kazama doing here? Ooshiba was about to get his happily ever after! Couldn’t he have some respect for his privacy?

Well, he thought, maybe he was trying to help them again and Kimishita would be with him. And yet as he turned the corner the only one he saw was Kazama alone.

Seriously, where was Kimishita hiding?

“Why are you here?” he turned to Kazama. “I’m here. Get out.”

Kazama, of course, wasn’t shooed off that easily. “C’mon,” he said, laughing. “There’s room enough for both of us.”

“Nope. I’m not here for you.” Ooshiba crossed his arms. “Leave.”

Kazama’s eyes glinted with amusement, and a knowing look lit up in his face. “Rude,” he said. “But I’m the one who invited you here!”

Ooshiba furrowed his brow. “You didn’t.”

“Sure did.”

“I didn’t get anything.”

“Really? Aw man, and here I went through all the trouble and sent you a note...”

Ooshiba’s frown deepened into a full-on scowl, his confusion intensifying. “You sent me one too? I got nothing.”

“What do you mean,  _too_?”

“I just got one note,” Ooshiba replied, stubbornly avoiding the mention of Kimishita’s name. “And it’s, uh... not from you.”

“I’m sure it is.”

“Nope.”

“Yes, it is. I just signed it with my initial, dude.”

Ooshiba paused. Slowly, little by little, the gears in his brain started turning.

Kimishita’s last name started with a K. But so did Kazama’s. And if the handwriting had looked familiar, it might have belonged to either of them. But Kimishita wasn’t up here. Instead there was only Kazama, who insistently claimed to have invited him here with a note signed only with his initial.

The K had stood for Kazama. Kimishita had never sent him a note at all.

“What the fuck!” he burst out, stomping over and grabbing Kazama by the collar, who nearly doubled over laughing like the insufferable brat he was. “Asshole! Don’t sign your letters with misleading shit like this, you stupid little shithead! I wouldn’t have come running all the way up here for  _you_!”

Unfortunately his anger only made Kazama laugh all the harder. “C’mon, dude,” he said, still hanging from Ooshiba’s hands by the collar. “Who else do you think could’ve written it? Or maybe... you wanted somebody else to write you a note like this?” Kazama winked and smirked as Ooshiba’s face heated up. “Like, I dunno... somebody else with a name starting with K?”

Ooshiba dropped him abruptly to cross his arms and glare at the wall. “Nope.”

“Really? Ouchie, I’m gonna tell that to Kimishita-kun. He’s gonna be so sad about it.”

_Don’t you fucking dare_ , Ooshiba wanted to say, but his pride restrained him enough to force out, “I don’t care.”

“Hmm, that’s too bad.” Kazama stuck his hands into his pockets, looking so artificially innocent Ooshiba could almost see a plastic halo over his head. “And here I was actually gonna offer to help you out with him...”

Ooshiba stopped short, momentarily forgetting his pride. “What?”

Kazama gave a lopsided grin. Stepping close to Ooshiba, he glanced from side to side to make sure no one could hear him before continuing, “Well... You know how head over heels I am for Tsukushi?”

Ooshiba nodded; the only one who hadn’t caught on to that was Tsukamoto himself.

“Well,” Kazama said with a sheepish laugh, “yeah, my problem is just that he’s dense and I have no clue how to ask him out and everything.” He glanced up to meet Ooshiba’s eyes. “Sound familiar?”

Somewhere deep down Ooshiba’s pride protested, but he ignored it. With a slight sympathetic groan he nodded again. “Yeah.”

“Haha, yeah, thought so.” Kazama’s expression turned long-suffering. “Join the club, we got jackets. Anyway–” he perked up again– “I thought about it yesterday, and now I got this plan. Listen.” His eyes locked with Ooshiba’s, confident and serious. “How ‘bout we both help each other get the clueless guys we like?”

Ooshiba stared at him for a very long moment. Then he furrowed his brow in confusion. “What?”

“We play wingman.” Kazama made an all-encompassing gesture. “You help me get with Tsukushi. I help you get with Kimishita-kun. Two heads are smarter than one, and hey, we already kinda did it yesterday, right?”

Ooshiba thought back. He was right, he realized. Thanks to Kazama he had made up with Kimishita. And in return he had pushed Kazama and Tsukamoto into getting even closer.

“True,” he said. “Kinda.”

Kazama gave him an expectant look. Ooshiba stared back, not sure what he was supposed to do.

“So,” Kazama said at last, “you in?”

Ooshiba pondered the suggestion for a few seconds. He couldn’t really see any drawbacks. Kazama was good with people and all this love stuff; he could make a useful ally. And in any case it was good to have that guy in his debt.

So, at length, he shrugged and nodded. “Sure.”

\---

Ubukata had disappeared behind her textbook again, absent-mindedly taking mouthfuls of food in between speed-reading whole pages at a time when her phone buzzed in her pocket. She ignored it. No time to go around messaging people; thanks to the soccer club and nationals (and, admittedly, her priorities) she was way behind on all her classes, barely catching up. She didn’t think she could allow herself another free minute until the end of the school year.

That was what he thought, and yet the buzz had disrupted her concentration. Her thoughts trailed off, and she struggled to focus as she scanned the page in desperate search of where she had left off. It was difficult, apparently. Since the start of lunch break she had tried to cram so much information into her head that it felt like half of it had fallen back out as soon as she wasn’t looking.

And her phone still lay in her bag, quiet now, but holding a new message waiting to be read.

Oh, for crying out loud. Thirty seconds. And then she would continue.

Snatching her phone out of her bag, she unlocked it, tapping the notification as her heart skipped a beat. It wasn’t from her family or even the old friends from middle school who still messaged her occasionally. Instead, for some reason or another, it was from Hoshina Takumi.

Something fluttered inside her chest, happiness maybe, or a spark of excitement. It wasn’t every day that she got a message from Hoshina, much less while she was still at school. For some reason she always got the impression that he was trying to considerate when messaging her and only did when he knew it wouldn’t bother her or distract her from something more important.

_Good afternoon_ , he had written, and Ubukata bit back a smile at the unnecessary formality.  _I hope you don’t mind me messaging you at a time like this, but my friends just pointed me to a bookstore not far from your school that sells very good textbooks. Since you’ve been working so hard to catch up with school, I thought you might want to look into it._

The corners of Ubukata’s mouth twitched. So wordy. And so polite. Like all of Hoshina’s messages. And, as always, so very kind and considerate.

It made replying a little difficult. And more than a little embarrassing.

_Thank you,_  she wrote back, blushing.  _You didn’t have to go that far–_  no, that sounded ungrateful, she deleted it again. Then she typed it back in for lack of a better phrasing.  _You didn’t have to go that far, but it’s very considerate of you. Do you have its name and address? If I have the time, I wouldn’t mind checking it out after school._

Her finger hit Send, and Ubukata was left waiting, half impatient, half anxious. Tapping her fingernails on the desk, she stared at the screen, watching it turn darker, then completely black. She wondered where the conversation would go from here. Would it end after Hoshina sent her the details of the store and she thanked him again? Somehow she didn’t want that. But how was she supposed to keep the conversation going from there?

Just as she was about to give up on waiting and regretfully return to her textbook her phone buzzed again, and she snatched it up so fast she nearly dropped it. Hoshina’s reply contained a name and address that she quickly looked up and found that it was indeed not far from the school, even if it lay in the opposite direction from her house. But just as she still sat pondering if it was worth the detour and what on earth to reply to Hoshina, another message came in, saying,  _I heard they hold some books there that I’ll need for college myself. If you don’t mind, we could go there together sometime._

She really did drop her phone this time.

Together, she thought in disbelief as her face turned hotter and hotter. Together? Go there? To the bookstore? What? When? Where on earth–

_Calm down. What are you freaking out for?_

Taking a deep breath, Ubukata closed her eyes and opened them again, picking up her phone from the desk with only slightly shaky fingers. Absurd, this overraction. Completely ridiculous. Why was she freaking out over the suggestion of a friendly outing? It wasn’t like this would turn into a date or anything!

After all, they were just friends. Or so she told people around her, and herself too. She had no time for love or crushes. School and the soccer club were already enough to pile up a mile over her head. And besides, even if she went and developed feelings like some idiot, she was only a first-year in high school. Hoshina was a few weeks from entering college and probably had a girlfriend anyway. There was no way this could possibly go over well.

Still, going together sounded nice. Hoshina was a nice guy after all, intelligent and a proper gentleman, so very unlike the soccer idiots she was babysitting on the daily. A very good choice of companion to go to a bookstore with. Date or no date.

_I wouldn’t mind,_  she replied.  _When would you like to go?_

The typing bubble popped up on Hoshina’s end. Ubukata’s eyes stayed locked on the screen. Her textbook and lunch lay on the side of the desk, abandoned and forgotten for the moment.

\---

“Okay,” Kazama declared, “so... what are we gonna do now?”

Kiichiman shrugged, evidently feeling as clueless as Kazama. “Dunno,” he said. “I thought you got some ideas.”

“Weeeell...” Kazama scratched the back of his head, laughing sheepishly. “I mean, that depends... How close  _are_  you and Kimishita-kun right now, exactly?”

Kiichiman furrowed his brow, crossed his arms and started thinking.

And thinking.

And thinking.

“Uh, Kiichiman?” Kazama asked at last, waving a hand in front of his face. “You still awake?”

Kiichiman blinked and nodded. “Yup,” he said. “Just thinking.”

“You’re taking your time there, y’know... I don’t got all break, I can’t keep Tsukushi waiting forever!”

“Hmm...” Kiichiman’s frown deepened. “We’re... kinda friends. I think. Maybe.”

Kazama snorted. “Helpful.”

“I dunno either!” Kiichiman snapped, turning a little pink. “He’s an asshole. But kinda not. And we fight, but we’re the greatest team ever. And I like him. But he’s still an asshole.”

“O...kay.” Kazama gave a lopsided grin, already slightly exasperated. “Maybe, uh, you could try to, I dunno... do something about that attitude first?”

Kiichiman blinked at him. “What?”

“Look here,” he said with a sigh. “Imagine you’re Kimishita-kun, and you’re not the most confident guy out there and you hate feelings, so you just go around being grumpy and hating life or whatever else that guy does. And you kinda-sorta, maybe, like this guy. Except this guy keeps insulting you and picking fights and stuff.” He casually gestured to Kiichiman. “So you’re not gonna fall in love with him, right? You’re just gonna go, okay, this dude’s mean to me all the time and I hate feelings, so I’m not wasting my time by falling in love with him and then getting hurt. Ya get me?”

Kiichiman frowned a little, but he nodded slowly. “Uh... Yup.”

“So,” Kazama continued, raising his eyebrows, “what do we learn from that?”

“I dunno.” Kiichiman shrugged. “Be nicer?”

Kazama flashed a victory sign. “Bingo! Not, like, creepy nice. Just cut down on the name-calling and fight-picking. Okay?”

Kiichiman nodded, but the look of determination on his face promised looming disaster.

\---

After practice that day Kazama walked back over the schoolyard with Tsukushi when his eyes came to rest on a figure standing right outside the gate. A boy or young man by the looks of it, dark-haired, visibly shivering in the cold despite the thick winter coat he was wrapped in. And for some reason he looked just slightly familiar.

“Kazama-kun,” Tsukushi said in an undertone as they slowly approached him, “isn’t that Hoshina-san from Touin at the gate?”

Kazama blinked and instantly realized why the figure had seemed familiar. Then a smirk passed over his face. There was only one person in the entire school this guy could possibly be waiting for.

“You’re right,” he said. “I wonder what he’s here for? Hello, Hoshina-san!” he said louder, chipperly grinning and waving at the freezing figure. “Whatcha doing here in this day and age? Wanna transfer to Seiseki for the last couple weeks?”

“No, thank you,” Hoshina replied, politely distant and deadly serious, as always. “I’m waiting here for your manager.”

“What, for Demon Lady Ubukata? Awesome!” Kazama tried to nudge him playfully in the ribs, but he dodged. “Did you guys get together at last? You gonna go on a date?”

“No,” Hoshina replied, the words  _together_  and  _date_  bouncing off him without leaving the slightest trace of embarrassment. “I recommended her a bookstore with good textbooks near here, so we’re going to check it out.”

Kazama smirked. “Together?”

“She needs to study and catch up with her classes. I need college textbooks.” Hoshina didn’t bat an eye, completely serious and utterly sincere. “And it’s a good opportunity to spend time together.”

Tsukushi blinked up at him with round eyes, visibly impressed. Kazama couldn’t hide a laugh. This guy was so innocent. And so stupid.

And very much in love.

“You’ve been waiting out here for awhile, huh?” he said, glancing up and down Hoshina’s body as he rapidly tried to hide his shivering. “Sorry, man. You third-years are free, but the rest of us still got practice. Wait a sec, I’m gonna go drag Ubukata back here!”

Hoshina raised a hand in protest, but Kazama was already off. Amusing as this whole situation was, he couldn’t help feeling sorry for the poor smitten guy. Being in love with someone like Ubukata sounded like a nightmare. But if anybody could handle that hot-tempered harpy, it had to be him.

He only wondered if Ubukata was even remotely aware of that. Going by her words the other day, most likely not.

Poor soul, he thought. And then it hit him.

Hopelessly in love? With a person who was utterly unaware of his feelings? That sounded an awful lot like he, too, needed a guy or two to help him out a little.

Emphasis on  _two_.


	4. Flirting for Beginners (And How Not To Do It)

Kazama and Tsukamoto disappeared quickly, without much conversation, and Hoshina was left alone with Ubukata. For a few heartbeats neither of them said a word; they simply stood there, slightly awkward at suddenly being abandoned together. Ubukata’s eyes, grayish in the twilight of winter, settled on Hoshina’s freezing form before drifting off to the side.

“Sorry for the wait,” she said, a little stiffly, as if she wasn’t used to being sincere with people. “Did you have to wait long?”

“Not too long,” Hoshina replied, and despite being frozen to the bone it didn’t feel like a lie. “I’d rather arrive a little early and have to wait than show up late, you know.”

Ubukata looked a little guilty, and suddenly Hoshina regretted his words. But before he could say anything she glared up at him, crossing her arms and sighing. “You’ll catch a cold with that attitude.”

Hoshina tensed up, feeling caught in his turn. “Well...” he replied. “Thanks for worrying about me, but that’s...”

“I’m serious. If you really want to wait, do it somewhere warmer next time.”

A smile crossed over Hoshina’s face. Something about the look on Ubukata’s face, the tone of her voice warmed his heart, scolding and awkwardly caring, kind-hearted despite her embarrassment. “I really don’t mind waiting for you here,” he said warmly. “But if you insist, we can meet up in a warmer place next time–”

His voice trailed off. Only now did the full meaning of Ubukata’s words hit him.  _Next time_? Whether she had realized it or not, she had just implied there would be a next time. They would meet up again, just like this.

Not that it held much meaning, he thought, but he was happy all the same. Happy that Ubukata, busy as she was, was apparently willing to make time for him and meet up and go somewhere together. If she had really meant the words she said, of course. But Hoshina had seen enough of her to know she would never say something nice without meaning it.

“I mean,” he said anyway, just to be polite, “if you don’t mind there being a next time.”

Ubukata gave a small jolt, as if only now becoming aware of her words, her cheeks flushing a little. “Why shouldn’t I?”

“I don’t know.” Hoshina looked straight ahead into nowhere. “I guess I just wanted to make sure.”

Silence fell again. Behind them on the street a car passed by, the beat of a fast-paced song pounding through the closed windows and fading into the distance.

“Well,” Ubukata said at last, “shall we go?”

Hoshina gave a nod, and side by side they set off, their breaths forming clouds before their lips as they went. The snow was gone now, but it was icy again, clear and unusually cold for the season. Soon enough the frost would melt into spring, and flower-buds would appear on every branch; but right now the world was still frozen in sleep, biding its time until the first rays of the spring sun brought it back to life.

At first they walked in silence, but soon Hoshina began to ask her how things were going, partly out of politeness, mostly out of genuine interest. He asked her about school and the soccer club, her friends, her family, the outcome of some ongoing misadventures in her life she had told him about. Ubukata initially seemed a little taken aback by his interest, but she didn’t dislike it, and soon they were deep in conversation. She spoke more and more freely, and Hoshina was content to listen and ask the occasional question. There was no need to say much about himself. What she had to say seemed a hundred times more interesting.

They were so immersed in conversation that they almost walked past the bookstore, spotting the entrance at the very last second. Hoshina held the door for Ubukata. She insisted it wasn’t necessary, but he wanted to do it anyway. It seemed like a nice gesture, the kind of thing he needed no reason to do except that it made him and others happy.

“Wow,” Ubukata said, coming to a stop next to him. “This is... bigger than I thought.”

Hoshina nodded quietly, letting his eyes roam around. The place was huge. Everywhere they looked shelves and displays stood in rows, filled to the brim with books, the smell of new paper wafting lightly through the air. On both sides escalators and stairs led to a second floor. A few feet ahead a sign listed all the locations of different genres of books.

“I can see why people recommend it,” Hoshina said. He already felt at home here, and a glance at Ubukata’s face told him she felt much the same. Hoshina knew how much she loved books, after all. Someday, he thought, when they both had time, he hoped they could go and explore this place together without a care in the world.

Now, however, they hadn’t come here for that. “Can you see a textbook section?” he asked. “Otherwise we should probably check out that sign.”

Ubukata let her eyes wander from side to side before shaking her head. “Maybe it’s upstairs,” she said. “Let’s check.”

It took a moment to make sense of the extensive list of genres and locations, but Ubukata was quick to figure it out. The textbooks were indeed upstairs, and they quickly steered for the nearest escalator before walking up and coming to a halt on the upper floor, wide-eyed and excited like children in a toy store.

This place really was huge. The upper floor seemed to extend even further than the one below, even though Hoshina knew it was most likely an illusion. There was a wide row of windows opening towards the street, cozy chairs forming an inviting line underneath them, some occupied by people immersed in books. And everywhere, wherever they looked, stood shelves and displays filled with even more books than on the downstairs floor.

“Now,” Hoshina said, inadvertently catching himself whispering in the quiet atmosphere, “we just need to find the textbooks.”

Ubukata scanned the place, then she pointed in one direction and quickly set off. Hoshina followed behind her. Her ability to filter out the right information in a matter of seconds never failed to amaze him.

Moments later they came to stop in front of one of the displays, and on some covers Hoshina recognized the titles of textbooks he knew. Ubukata was already stooped over them, searching for the right ones to fit her purposes. Hoshina peered over her shoulder and scanned the titles along with her.

“I used this one in my first year,” he said, picking up one of the books. “It’s short but very densely packed with information. Since you don’t have much time to study, it may fit your purposes.”

Ubukata’s eyes widened, and she took it from his hands, opening it and gently leafing through the pages. “It’s... not bad.”

Hoshina cracked a smile. He was glad to be able to help, even with small things like this. And the look of amazement and gratitude was more than enough of a reward.

Leaving her to keep looking through the book, he found his gaze straying, first over the rest of the display, then over the neighboring shelves. There was one full of college textbooks nearby, he realized. Before he knew what he was doing he had stepped up to it, running his eyes over the covers in search of something he might need soon.

“Are you looking for something?”

Hoshina gave a jolt. He had been so immersed in scanning the back covers that he hadn’t noticed Ubukata closing the book and approaching him at all.

“Not particularly,” he replied, glancing up from the books. “Just looking around.”

“You did mention wanting books for college.” Ubukata trailed a finger over one of the covers. “What are you majoring in?”

“Physics.”

Ubukata blinked. “That’s surprising. Why physics?”

“I’ve always been interested in space.” Pulling one of the books off the shelf, Hoshina rested his eyes on the galaxies and nebulas on the cover. “And the easiest way to learn more about it is by studying physics.”

She gave a slight smile. “I see.”

Hoshina paused for a moment, then he glanced at her again, curious. “What about you?”

“Me?”

“Yes.” He fixed her eyes with his gaze. “After you graduate from high school, what would you like to major in?”

A shadow passed over her face, quickly followed up by a sad smile. “I’m not sure,” she said. “I’m thinking literature, but...”

“There’s no rush to decide,” Hoshina replied quickly. “You still have two years, after all.”

“I know, but... I'd like to do it. I guess I’m just wondering if I’m cut out for it.” Ubukata leafed absent-mindedly through the book in her hands. “Or if I should stick to books as a hobby and do something else.”

“I can’t see a reason why you shouldn’t try.”

She nearly dropped the book. “What?”

“You’re smart, talented and hardworking,” Hoshina said, gazing directly into her wide eyes. “I don’t think there’s anything you’re not cut out for once you set your mind to it.”

Ubukata didn’t reply. She only glanced down, but her cheeks were dusted with pink, and the small smile on her lips held much more happiness than before.

Turning back to the shelf, Hoshina picked out a book, and they both went to pay before stepping back outside, walking towards the station in the ever-darkening streets. Their conversation continued naturally. Inside the station they both lingered for a long time, still talking, until at last they parted ways with smiles on their faces.

He had barely stepped on his platform and pulled his phone out of his pocket when a message caught his eye among the notifications. Not from his teammates, he realized. In fact, it wasn’t from a number he knew at all.

_hello!_  it said.  _how was ur date w our manager? :3_

Hoshina frowned. A prank? A scam? Unlikely; it was too personal. Wrong number? No, even less likely. Whoever had sent it clearly knew a thing or five about him.

Furrowing his brow, he wrote back,  _I’m sorry, who is this?_

Hoshina’s train arrived, and he got on. But even as he was about to put his phone back into his pocket an answer popped up.

_dont worry. im ur friend n ally :)_

Hoshina squinted. For some reason that message seemed slightly ominous.  _Thank you_ , he replied.  _I’d still like to know your name._

The reply took a little longer this time, but Hoshina waited. When it finally came, it said,  _ROTFLMAO aww ur no fun </3 its kazama from seiseki lol_

Hoshina’s confusion grew from minute to minute. Kazama? Seiseki’s Kazama Jin of the three arrows? He remembered the guy all right. But that still left a number of other questions. Most importantly, why on earth had he contacted him? And speaking of...  _Where did you get my number?_

_i worked my connections ;) lmao jk i talked to ur bro after nationals n asked him earlier. said i had smthng to talk to u abt_

His brother... that had to be Seiya. Now that he mentioned it, Hoshina did recall him and his teammates taking an interest in Kazama, although he had no idea they were still in contact. He sighed. Looked like he needed to have a talk to his brothers about giving his contact data to people he barely knew.

For now, however, he had another question to ask.  _What would you like to talk to me about?_

There was a moment’s pause, then Kazama replied,  _mind if i call u?_

Part of Hoshina wanted to say no. The other, however, was too curious to refuse. What on earth could Kazama want from him? And what did it all have to do with the initial text about his so-called date with Ubukata?

_Go ahead,_  he answered cautiously.

It only took a few seconds for his phone to buzz, and Hoshina picked up. “Hello.”

“Hi there, eyelash guy!” Kazama’s chipper voice chimed from the other end of the line, and Hoshina inadvertently found himself adjusting the volume of his phone’s speakers. “Nice to talk to ya! So, how’d things go with our demon manager?”

Hoshina blinked in surprise. “Is–?” he stuttered out. “Is  _that_  what you wanted to talk to me about?”

Kazama gave a laugh. “C’mon, dude, I’m just interested. You really like her, huh?”

“Of course I do,” Hoshina replied without batting an eye, confused at the hoot that followed from Kazama’s end. “She’s very nice, mature and smart. I like spending time with her.”

“No, no, no. Not like that.” Hoshina could almost picture Kazama waving his hand dismissively at the phone. “I mean, you  _like her_  like her, right? Like, in the crush way.”

Hoshina still didn’t bat an eye. “Not to my knowledge.”

“Not to your– c’mon, bro, you’re not fooling anybody.” Kazama’s voice took a conspiratory tone. “No guy would wait outside the school gate in the freezing cold for a girl he’s not head over heels for, right? You almost got frostbite to go to a bookstore with her, man!”

Hoshina pondered those words. Kazama might have a point, maybe. Not that he could tell for sure. He hadn’t thought about it at all when he resigned himself to waiting in that place.

“I don’t know,” he said at last. “Don’t people also do that for their close friends?”

“Uh...”

“Like you and your number seventeen... Tsukamoto, was it?” Hoshina gazed out through the window, trying to recall the name and face. “You seem to be very close friends. Would you not do the same for him?”

From the other end of the line came a drawn-out sheepish laugh. “Weeell,” Kazama said, “actually...”

Hoshina blinked. “Are you not that close? Sorry, it seemed that way to me.”

“No, no, no! That’s not it, that’s not it! It’s just, uh...” Kazama’s voice turned awkward. “I would. But I do like him that way.”

There was an awkward pause. Hoshina wasn’t entirely sure how to respond to that. What was the right response in such a situation, anyway?

“I see,” he said at last.

“Yeah... uh... yeah.” Kazama laughed awkwardly. “Anyway, where were we again?”

“That’s what I’d like to ask you.”

Another pause. Then Kazama spoke again, sounding much more composed and as chipper as usual. “Oh, right!” he chimed. “You and Ubukata. Are you happy with how things are going?”

Hoshina frowned, unsure what to make of that question. “I think so,” he said. “Why?”

“Well, you seem  _really_  smitten. And Ubukata can be kind of... y’know.” Kazama laughed again. “I wonder how much longer you would’ve stood there if I hadn’t dragged her to the school gate.”

Hoshina raised a hand. “It’s fine–”

“Look, she’s really clueless is what I’m saying. And Kiichiman and me, you know, our tall second-year forward? We both got really dense crushes too. So we teamed up.” Kazama sounded completely casual, as if they had known each other for years and not at all like this was their first proper conversation. “We’re gonna give each other advice and help out and stuff, ya know? And you know, you kinda looked like you could join the club.”

“So...” Hoshina furrowed his brow, trying to follow the chatter. “You’re offering to help me with Ubukata... if I help you with the people you like?”

There was a sound from the speaker as of someone snapping their fingers. “Bingo.”

Hoshina pondered the suggestion for a moment. Helping these two, now that didn’t sound so bad. He probably didn’t know their crushes too well, but advice was something he was always happy to offer if he felt qualified for it. But receiving help with Ubukata... what did that even mean? Even suggesting that everyone was right and he really did have feelings for her, did he truly need a wingman?

Not really, he thought. Things were going fine between them. At least for the time being he didn’t need help. Being friends with Ubukata and finding opportunities like today to spend some time with her was all he wanted for the time being.

“I appreciate the suggestion,” he said at last. “But I think I’ll pass.”

Kazama sounded surprised. “Really?”

“Yes.” Hoshina bowed his head. “I'm happy to help you two if I can, but I don’t think I need any help myself. I’m fine with the way things are right now.”

There was a moment’s pause, then Kazama’s cheery tone was back. “Okay,” he said. “Got it. If you change your mind, tell me anytime. Bye-bye!”

Before Hoshina could say anything else, the call was over as abruptly as it had begun.

\---

It was an ungodly hour in the morning, but of course Kimishita was the first one in the club room anyway. It was a tradition he had kept up since his first year; he had always been an early bird, and he liked the feeling of coming in ahead of everyone else, the complete silence, the peace in which he changed into his jersey and prepared for practice before the others began to pour in one by one. Mornings, he thought, were something best spent in solitude being productive, long before everyone else showed up and began to make a noise.

For almost two years this system had worked wonderfully. Today, however, he opened the door to find the club room not quite as deserted as usual.

“Hi,” Kiichi said much too cheerfully for the insufferably early hour, sitting on the bench like he had any business being here. “Good morning, Kimishita-kun.”

Kimishita squinted. The honorific was off-putting. Kiichi only ever used it to make fun of him, but right now he didn’t sound like he was joking. If anything he didn’t sound much like himself at all. The Kiichi he knew should still be curled up in bed at this hour, groaning about five more minutes.

Grunting, he muttered something that, with a lot of imagination, could be interpreted as a greeting. No energy for this. It was too early to talk to people. Especially walking annoyances like Kiichi.

Especially walking annoyances like Kiichi  _who should not be here in this very room at this very hour._

“It’s such a nice morning today,” Kiichi chimed on, still perfectly out of character. “How are you doing?”

Kimishita turned around with a scowl. “Who are you?”

Kiichi tilted his head in question, that off-puttingly cheerful smile still unwavering on his face. He looked completely vacant. “Hm?”

“Who are you,” Kimishita said again, “and what did you do with Kiichi?”

Kiichi didn’t bat an eye. “I am him. I’m just in a good mood.”

“And why the flying fuck would you be in a good mood at an hour when you’re supposed to be still curled up in your bed, complaining that you have to get up in five minutes?”

Kiichi’s smile grew even wider and eerily unnatural. “I’m in a good mood ‘cause I’m happy to see you, Kimishita-kun!”

Kimishita stared.

“What did you do?”

Kiichi’s smile wavered a little at last, and Kimishita relaxed slightly. “What?”

“You’re being way too nice.” Kimishita clicked his tongue. “It’s creepy. What did you fuck up this time?”

The creepily fake smile disappeared in an instant. Kiichi was on his feet before Kimishita could blink. “Nothing!” he burst out, very much back to himself again. “D’you think I can’t just be nice, asshat?”

Kimishita clicked his tongue, rising to the challenge even as a wave of relief washed over him. This Kiichi was someone he knew. This Kiichi he could handle. “Shut up!” he snapped. “You were acting out of character, moron! What you tried to sell me as niceness was fucking creepy!”

Kiichi flushed red. “I wasn’t acting creepy!” he shot back, grabbing Kimishita by the collar and lifting him up on his tip-toes. “You’re just such an asshole you find people creepy when they’re nice to you!”

“Ah? Look who’s talking!” Kimishita snatched Kiichi’s shirt in return. “Why would  _you_  start being nice to me for no reason anyway, huh?”

“‘Cause I thought that if I’m nice to you, you’re gonna be less of an asshole!”

“Asshole this, asshole that! Don’t you have any other insults in your vocabulary?”

“I do!” Kiichi stomped his foot. “You’re a bitch! A mean-ass little bitch!”

“You try babysitting this whole stupid team including the captain! I have every right to bitch!”

Kiichi glared at him for a few seconds, processing the response, then his face flushed as he gave a furious huff. “You don’t gotta babysit me!” he burst out. “I’m not a baby!”

“You’re a six-foot man-baby and you know it!” Kimishita yelled back. “Everyone would think you’re a toddler if you weren’t so big!”

Kiichi stuck out his tongue. “And still they made me the captain and not you!”

“Because captains of Seiseki are all the pinnacles of maturity and intelligence.”

“Well, not Mizuki,” Kiichi said flatly. “He’s a fucking dumbass.”

Kimishita had nothing to reply to that. Only a face-palm could come even in the vicinity of conveying the full extent of his exasperation.

“I can’t wait for college,” he grumbled at last, “when you’ve both gone pro and I never have to deal with either of you morons ever again.”

Kiichi stared at him with wide eyes. Something in his expression had changed. He didn’t have the half-playful look of annoyance on his face anymore, the same he always wore when they fell back into their bickering; instead he seemed genuinely angry, almost upset, as if this remark among all the insults had gone under his skin. “Oh yeah?” he said quietly, averting his gaze. “Then why don’t you just leave the school if you hate me so much?”

This time it was Kimishita’s turn to stare, gaping at him in a mixture of remorse and utter incomprehension. “What the–”

“Sure, look forward to it,” Kiichi said, abruptly dropping him and marching across the room to his locker. “I can’t wait to leave your bitchy nagging ass either!”

“Kiichi, what’s with you–”

“And then I’m gonna get super famous as a pro player!” Kiichi added, snatching his jersey and closing his locker with a bang. “And then you’re gonna be sorry!”

“Idiot, what are you getting all dramatic for?” Kimishita shouted after him, but Kiichi changed into his jersey without sparing him a single glance. “You know I don’t mean half of what I say when we– Kiichi?”

Without a word Kiichi walked out of the club room, slamming the door behind him.

Kimishita sighed. What an idiot. What had that friendly act been about? And why was he suddenly making such a drama out of one offhanded remark? None of it made sense. Although Kimishita had never understood how his idiot brain worked in the first place.

Oh well, he thought. He’d calm down soon enough. Kiichi wasn’t really the type to keep sulking for days, thankfully.

But still, what a way to start the morning. He just hoped the rest of the day would allow him to keep at least a little bit of his sanity.


	5. Mischief, Combined

“Are you serious?” Kazama replied, torn between complete exasperation and the urge to fall over backwards laughing. “Dude– Kiichiman, oh my god, what the hell were you thinking?”

Kiichiman glared back at him, part betrayed, part defensive and very much annoyed by Kazama and the world. “I just did what you said!” he snapped. “Not my fault your advice was shit!”

“No, no, no– dude. Bro. Buddy.  _No_.” Kazama bit back a laugh as he raised his hands in a pacifying gesture. “Look here, man. You can’t just go up to Kimishita-kun and fake being nice, okay? Like– what would you think if he just started spouting nice stuff and acting super out of character outta nowhere?”

Kiichiman furrowed his brow, as if trying to picture the concept and failing miserably. “Dunno,” he said at last. “Probably creepy as shit.”

Kazama pointed finger guns at him. “Bingo.”

“Hm, but...” The pensive expression faded, as if Kiichiman had suddenly remembered he was still angry at Kazama. “But you’re the one who said I should be nicer! Which is it, you hypo– hyper– uh–”

“Hypocrite? C’mon, at least learn the word before you throw it at people!” Kazama did laugh this time. “I didn’t mean it like acting out of character! That’s just creepy. I meant like... not insulting him all the time. Helping him out with stuff. You know, like the stuff you do for your friends?”

Kiichiman frowned again, thinking hard. Then he suddenly turned bright red. “I’m not gonna hug him,” he said.

Kazama gave a lopsided grin, the image of Kimishita hissing and complaining about affection like a feral cat popping into his mind. “That’s probably wise.”

“But I can help him with the team,” Kiichiman mused on. “Wait. No. I’m already kinda doing that. But I can buy him lunch or something. Yup, I’m gonna do that. I’m so generous.” A self-satisfied smirk crossed his face. “And maybe I can help him at his store too. Or with his schoolwork.”

“Actually, you might wanna reconsider the schoolwork,” Kazama piped in, all-too-clearly visualizing Kiichiman’s abysmal grades. “But the rest sounds good! Just, y’know, don’t go overboard with the niceness.” He paused for a second before adding, “And try not to brag about it.”

Kiichiman crossed his arms. “I never brag.”

“Sure you don’t. Anyway,” Kazama added quickly, trying to steer away from the sensitive subject, “don’t worry about what Kimishita-kun said. You know he doesn’t mean half the mean stuff he says.”

Kiichiman squirmed, pouting at the ground. “But what if he did?”

“Dude, he tried to apologize. Chill.” Kazama glanced across the pitch to where Kimishita was discussing something with Ubukata, then back at Kiichiman. “Actually, you should probably let him.”

“But he hurt me–”

“Nobody likes a sulk.” Kazama gave him a half-sympathetic grin. “And hey, he’s already sorry. What did I tell you about being nice?”

“Hm,” Kiichiman mumbled, looking about half convinced. “But he’s still an ungrateful asshole.”

“Who actually went back on his words when he realized he crossed a line. For somebody like Kimishita-kun, that’s already pretty good.”

Kiichiman processed these words for a good moment, then he leaped forward, getting all up in Kazama’s face as he stared down at him with sparkling eyes. “You think I’m special to him?”

“Hey, hey, no promises!” Kazama said, laughing and backing off. “I’m just saying it’s not a bad place to start from. Right?”

“Yup! Heh, for a first-year you sure know a lot about love and stuff.” Kiichiman grinned smugly, then a thought crossed his face, and he tilted his head in question. “Actually,” he said, “if you know so much about this shit, why don’t you just use it on Tsukamoto?”

Kazama’s face heated up. “Uh–”

“What’s the matter, Kazama-kun?”

Kazama nearly jumped out of his skin. He had been so immersed in his discussion with Kiichiman that he hadn’t noticed Tsukushi approaching at all.

“O-Oh hey Tsukushi, hi!” The beaming smile on his face was genuine, but his heart was still recovering from skipping a beat. “What’s up, bro, I missed you! How uh... How long have you been here?”

“I just arrived.” Tsukushi cocked his head. “Why?”

Thankfully this time Kazama instantly had an explanation up his sleeve. “’Cause if you’d been around for longer and I hadn’t noticed you, I would’ve been super mad for missing out on precious minutes with my best friend!” He pulled him into a hug, ruffling his hair, and Tsukushi laughed, the most blessed of sounds. “Right?”

Tsukushi’s cheeks turned pink. “You’re exaggerating, Kazama-kun...”

“Nope!” Kazama’s grin widened, if that was even still possible. “Every minute with you counts!”

From the corner of his eye he caught Kiichiman staring at them, as if wondering if they even needed a matchmaker with the way they were. He sent a desperate glance back. He was happy, sure, and his insides were dancing with joy at the wonderful human being in his arms, but if they were this close as  _just friends_ , what on earth could he do to make Tsukushi realize he like-liked him? If Tsukushi considered this level of affection and adoration just friendship, how much more did he have to do to make him catch on?

“So, um,” Tsukushi asked at last, looking back and forth between Kazama and Kiichiman, “what were you two talking about?”

Kazama froze on the spot. For a second he blanked as his brain hurriedly scrambled for some kind of excuse.

“Oh, uh,” he chattered all-too-cheerfully, “nothing special, y’know? Kiichiman and Kimishita-kun just had a bit of a fight this morning. Don’t worry, it’s not serious!” he added upon seeing the look on Tsukushi’s face. “You know how dumb these guys can be.”

Tsukushi nodded gravely as Kiichiman scowled at them both. “We’re not dumb,” he said. “That guy’s just a cold-hearted asshole.”

“Kiichiman, we’ve had this before. Let the poor guy apologize and chill out.”

Tsukushi looked from one to the other, confused once more. “Um...” he said at last. “If there’s something I can do, I wouldn’t mind helping... if you don’t mind?”

Kiichiman fervently shook his head. Kazama felt a surge of panic. “That’s so nice of you!” he said, ruffling Tsukushi’s hair again. “But you can’t go around mediating between them all the time, ya feel? They’re older than us, they gotta learn how to communicate themselves!”

“Oh,” Tsukushi replied as his eyes went round with understanding. “I see!” He took a slight bow. “Sorry for intruding!”

“C’mon, you don’t gotta apologize. Oh hey, practice is gonna start!” Kazama said mostly to change the subject, using his arm around Tsukushi’s shoulders to lead them towards the team. “Let’s go line up! You better go too, Kiichiman!”

Kiichiman didn’t look too happy, but he started off in the same direction anyway – still keeping on the opposite side from Kimishita, Kazama noticed. Of course. Once this guy set his mind on sulking, there wasn’t much that could get him out of it.

Looked like someone would have to do something. And Kazama might just have a very good idea on what that something could be.

\---

Kazama waited some time before going through with his plan. Running and warmups weren’t the place to try, and neither was passing and shooting practice. It wasn’t until they actually got to playing that he knew it was time to wait for the opportune moment.

They were split up into teams, and Kazama noted that Kiichiman had conveniently put him and Tsukushi on the same team. Well, obviously. He was the one who had told them to get closer– as players, of course. Still, that didn’t play into his plan. He only hoped that Tsukushi wouldn’t worry about him too much when he invariably pretended to do something exceptionally stupid.

The whistle rang, and Kazama flung himself headfirst in the game. Might as well score a few goals while he was at it. But even as he ran over the pitch with the ball at his feet, he watched. Waited.

An opportunity flashed before his eyes in the shape of Nitobe, who hastily threw himself into his way, trying to defend. Kazama didn’t miss it. Mentally sending out an apology to Nitobe, he purposely dodged too far to the side, making himself lose balance and crashing to the ground.

The ball rolled to the side. Footsteps around him slowed to a halt. Kazama sat up, rubbing his ankle. “Ouchie,” he said, giving his best lopsided grin. “That was... kinda dumb.”

Nitobe leaned down to him, extending a hand. “You okay, man?”

“Yep! All fine,” Kazama chirped as he took Nitobe’s hand and let himself be pulled to his feet, careful not to put too much weight on his ‘injured’ foot. “See? Let’s keep playing!”

“Like hell you’re fine, you moron!”

Kazama spun around, smirking inwardly as he saw Kimishita marching up to him from across the pitch. “You think you can feed us your bullshit that easily, huh? I can see you favoring your leg from here!” He clicked his tongue, coming to a stop in front of Kazama. “You might’ve twisted your ankle. Show me your foot.”

Kazama backed away. This was the trickiest part of it all; if Kimishita checked his leg and found nothing, his prank might be found out. “I promise, Kimishita-kun, it’s super fine! Here, see?”

“Show him, or I’m gonna kick your ass.”

A triumphant smile almost crossed Kazama’s face.  _Checkmate_. But when he turned to face Kiichiman, his expression was still perfectly innocent.

“C’mon, Captain,” he said, lighthearted and cheerful as ever. “It’s nothing serious, chill! If it hurts too much I promise I’m gonna quit, okay?”

Kiichiman crossed his arms. “Nope. Not till we check it.”

“Calm down, guys! You’re acting like my parents!”

Captain and vice-captain both lashed around to glare at him in sync. “We’re not acting like parents!”

Blinking, they both turned to glare at each other, now turning red with embarrassment. “Don’t imitate me!” Kiichiman burst out.

“How can I imitate you when we both spoke at the same time, idiot!” Kimishita shot back, clicking his tongue. “Don’t get off topic, we’re supposed to check up on Kazama!”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Kiichiman snapped, shortly before snatching Kazama by the shoulders and glaring. “Kazama, let Kimishita check your foot,” he said. “Captain’s orders.”

Kazama couldn’t do anything against such a decisive order, and he didn’t mean to. “Okay,” he said, slumping against the grip. His mission was already done anyway. The two idiots were talking to each other again, completely forgetting their squabble in favor of their parenting instincts.

Just as Kimishita stooped down, however, Kiichiman suddenly let go of his shoulders. “Wait,” he said. “Maybe we should let Tsukamoto check it. He can always tell when something’s wrong with Kazama.”

Kazama’s heart skipped a beat. Tsukushi? No way. What was Kiichiman thinking?

Furrowing his brow, Kimishita looked back and forth between Kiichiman and Kazama, then glanced over his shoulder at Tsukushi. “Good point,” he said at last. “Tsukamoto! Check Kazama’s foot so we can finally continue this fucking game!”

Tsukushi gave a jolt, running towards Kazama at a near-frightening speed. “Let me see your foot, Kazama-kun!” he shouted even as he knelt down, small hands brushing against his ankle. “Does it hurt? Is everything okay?”

“Hold on.” Sitting down, Kazama propped himself up on his hands, pushing the pretend-injured foot closer to Tsukushi. “That’s better. Don’t worry, man,” he added in a quieter voice, ruffling Tsukushi’s hair. “I swear I’m fine.”

Tsukushi happily closed his eyes at the touch, but the look of worry didn’t entirely disappear from his face. “Let me check anyway,” he said. “Do you, um.. Do you mind if I take off your shoe and sock for a moment?”

Kazama very much did, but not at all for the reasons Tsukushi would suspect. “Uh... Go ahead,” he said, hoping he wasn’t turning as red as he felt. From the corner of his eye he caught Kiichiman smirking down at him, visibly pleased with himself.

Tsukushi followed through, his hands gentle but determinated as he untied Kazama’s shoelaces and pulled down his sock and shinguard, his fingers warm and soft against Kazama’s skin. Kazama felt a little like a princess treated by her loyal knight, and he wasn’t sure what to make of it. Not that he had time to think about it right now. His brain was much too focused on the sight of Tsukushi kneeling over his foot and the feeling of his hands brushing over his ankle, feeling and squeezing in search of any injuries.

Too soon, however, it was all over as Tsukushi straightened up. “It’s all fine,” he said. “You can play, Kazama-kun!”

Kazama gathered himself and scrambled up to his feet. Almost immediately he missed the feel of Tsukushi’s hands on his skin. Fantastic. Fabulous. He was in so deep it wasn’t even funny anymore.

“Okay!” he said out loud. “Thanks for the checkup, Tsukushi! You sure know my body like nobody else,” he said with a wink. “Let’s keep playing!”

For a split second he wondered if that remark had been a mistake. But Tsukushi didn’t blush. His face remained innocent as he smiled, innocent and painfully clueless. “It’s because you’re my best friend, Kazama-kun!” he said. “Let’s go!”

“Uh... Sure thing, bro!” Forcing a grin, Kazama marched back to his position, trying not to show his disappointment. If Tsukushi could still look this innocent at a comment like  _that_ , nothing short of explicitly telling his feelings would ever make him catch a hint.  _Best friend_ , indeed. In this context these words were strangely painful.

Part of him wondered if that meant Tsukushi just flat-out wasn’t interested. The other part tried not to think about that too hard. This entire love thing was already freaking him out enough as things were. Besides, a practice soccer match really wasn’t the right moment to think about it.

So he went out and played. Because, at this very moment, what else could he do except have fun?

\---

“It’s impossible,” Kazama groaned with his face buried in his arms. “He’s just too pure for his own good! Everything flies straight over his head!”

They were sitting at a table in a half-empty family restaurant, a box of fries in front of Kazama, a gigantic parfait under Ooshiba’s nose. Kazama lay flat on the table, his hair spilling onto the surface; he had barely moved from this position since the moment they sat down, except to order. Ooshiba hated to say it, but he was truly at a loss.

“Chill,” he ventured this time. “At least he likes you a lot. He always gets starry-eyed as shit when you show up.”

Kazama only groaned again. “Maybe,” he said, “but that doesn’t help me! I can’t even test the waters! I flirt and I flirt and he just...”

Ooshiba crossed his arms. “Then just tell him.”

“Hell no!” Kazama shot up from the table. “Have you seen that guy? I don’t wanna creep him out!”

“How’s a confession gonna creep him out?”

Kazama stared blankly. For a moment he seemed completely speechless, as if the very question was too absurd to ever cross his mind. “What?”

“You guys are best friends.” Ooshiba shrugged. “If you just tell him you like him, why should he find it creepy?”

“Because... because... okay, look here.” Kazama leaned forward, propping himself up on his elbows. “Why don’t you wanna just tell Kimishita-kun you got a crush on him?”

Ooshiba’s face flushed; the mere thought was a mixture of embarrassing and plain horrifying. “’Cause, uh...” He struggled. “‘Cause reasons.”

“You’re scared of getting rejected and looking stupid in front of him, right?” Kazama shoved a fry in his mouth. “But you’re also scared that if you ask him out and he says no, you’re gonna lose what you got so far and then you’ll be left with nothing.” He tilted his head. “Right?”

Ooshiba thought about it long and hard. That sounded about right. And yet not. And yet... maybe. He wasn’t sure. “It’s just lame as shit,” he said.

“What is? Revealing your feelings? Or just confessing that you like Kimishita-kun when you guys have been like an old married couple for so long that it’s weird to just be nice to him?”

“I dunno. And I don’t care.” Ooshiba tried to nick one of Kazama’s fries, only to be stopped in his tracks. “It doesn’t explain shit about why you don’t wanna confess to Tsukamoto.”

“Because I have no clue if he likes me! Like sure, he likes me,” Kazama added with a groan, “but is it like or  _like_? What if he just likes me as a friend and thinks I had ulterior motives for being nice to him all this time? What if he feels pressured to like me back? Don’t look at me like that, Kiichiman, you know that’s how he is.” He slumped back on the table. “Flirting’s been so easy. Dating too. But dude... nobody told me falling in love was so stressful!”

Ooshiba understood it, and yet not really. “Then why don’t you just kiss him?”

Kazama shot back up, shock and disdain written all over his face. “Kiichiman, have you listened to  _anything_  I’ve said so far?”

Ooshiba stared back in confusion. “What’s the problem?”

For a very long moment, Kazama only blinked at him. Then, without warning, he burst out laughing.

“Kiichiman,” he shouted, “are you kidding me? This is like... grade school level consent! Consent 101! Dude, no wonder you can’t get a date with that attitude!”

“Shut up!” Ooshiba snapped, flipping him off. “I’m just saying that if he likes you, he’s gonna like the kiss. And if he’s clueless he’s gonna start seeing you different after you kiss him.”

“Then why don’t you just kiss Kimishita-kun? Same logic, right?”

Ooshiba gave a jolt. “Nope! You guys are cuddly as fuck anyway. You’re the guy who told me I shouldn’t touch Kimishita if I want him to like me!”

“O...kay, okay, this is going nowhere.” Kazama gave a slightly exasperated grin, waving off the conversation with an awkward laugh. “Let’s rephrase this. How do I test the waters with Tsukushi  _before_  jumping straight in and freaking him out?”

Ooshiba knitted his eyebrows together, thinking harder than he had in a long time. Telling him straight was out of the question, and so was kissing. But it should still be strong enough for Tsukamoto to notice that Kazama was flirting. What would even fit into this category? How on earth did people normally flirt with people they liked, exactly?

Wait– wait a second. That might just be it.

“If you don’t wanna kiss him,” he said, “then you could do other boyfriend shit for him.” He shrugged. “And see if he likes it.”

Kazama laughed. “No way, no way, that couldn’t–” He stopped in his tracks. His eyes went rounder and rounder.

“Wait a minute,” he said, “that might actually be pretty good.”

“I know right?” Ooshiba replied, flattered. “Like, you can take him to romantic places. Or hold his hand or some shit.” He paused, trying to think of other ideas– ideas that he had obviously only gathered on accident through his sister’s love of stupid TV dramas, not because he was secretly a romantic or anything. “I dunno. Get him gifts.”

Kazama whistled. “Smart. Hey, Kiichiman, could it be you don’t need my help after all?” Ooshiba blinked, and he laughed. “Just kidding, I just like the plan. Mostly ‘cause it means I get to spoil him rotten.” He smirked, then his expression turned pensive. “Hm, I wonder what I should do...”

Ooshiba shrugged. “Take him on a date?”

“Well...” Kazama still seemed lost in thought. “I’m staying over at his place this weekend, so...”

“Bring him something.”

“In front of his  _mom_? Dude, that’s kinda...” Kazama sat back, cracking a smile. “Okay, I kinda introduced him to mine while holding his wrist. Can’t get any weirder than that, right?”

“Don’t worry,” Ooshiba said, placing a fatherly hand on his shoulder and trying to sound like a reliable upperclassman, ignoring that he would probably feel just as strange about it himself. “Just do it. You got this.”

\---

“I got this,” Kazama repeated as he walked along the street with his bicycle, letting his gaze roam over the shop windows. It sounded plenty easy. Stay over at Tsukushi’s place for the weekend, spend lots and lots of time with him, and shower him with attention and affection to the point where he realized it felt like a date. And then watch his response, if he was uncomfortable, or if he seemed happy... if he seemed to like being treated like this.

Now he only needed to figure out the details.

The hand-holding was probably not a bad suggestion, and easily done, considering they were almost constantly touching each other anyway. But what else? If they were mostly staying in, how could he still make it feel like a date? And if he was taking him out somewhere, where to? It wasn’t like there were too many opportunities in this cold weather in the first place.

A gift, he thought, maybe he should start with that. He wondered what couples usually gave each other. The thought had never mattered. He had never been in a relationship serious enough to involve gift-giving.

Chocolate? No, that wasn’t right; too commonplace unless it was a fancy brand, and he wasn’t as rich as Kiichiman. A plushie? Jewelry? Those were things only given to girls, although the mental image of Tsukushi snuggling a big fluffy teddy bear was inviting. Maybe, Kazama mused, he could win him one of those at an amusement park booth when the weather was warmer. For now it was probably a little over the top.

So what else? What would be romantic and still suit Tsukushi?

His eyes roamed around the street and rested on a patch of yellow.

Kazama hurried across the road, barely making it in time before the traffic light changed. He was standing in front of a flower shop. And in front of him, right in the middle of the window, stood a bouquet of small sunflowers.

Dropping his bike, he darted inside, already closing his hand around the wallet inside his pocket. Now or never.

Now he only needed to keep them safe until tomorrow.


	6. Sandwiches and Sunflowers

The next day, during lunch break, Ooshiba decided to follow one of Kazama’s suggestions.

Grabbing his wallet, he marched out of his classroom, heading straight for Kimishita’s classroom and barging in through the door without a second’s hesitation. “Kimishita!” he shouted across the room as soon as he had spotted him, still sitting in his chair and about to unpack his sad little pauper lunch. “Whatcha gonna do for lunch?”

Kimishita stared at him as if he had just asked a very stupid question, clearly still oblivious to the blessing Ooshiba was about to bestow upon him. “Eat,” he deadpanned. “What do  _you_  think I’m doing?”

“Not that.” Seriously, this guy was beyond dense. “You gonna eat that cheap-ass food you brought from home?”

Kimishita’s expression grew more and more confused, as well as more than a little irritated. “No thanks, I prefer starving,” he said sarcastically. “What do you want? If you’ve come here just to gloat about being rich, get the fuck out!”

Now, Ooshiba thought. Now was the perfect moment.

“Nope,” he said, brandishing his wallet. “I wanna buy you lunch.”

Kimishita’s face went through three different emotions in the span of seconds. First he looked puzzled. Then, or at least that was what Ooshiba liked to imagine, vaguely flattered. Finally his expression settled on a look of irritation.

“I have lunch,” he said, gesturing to his sad little box.

Ooshiba crossed his arms. “I can buy you better lunch.”

“And I don’t need it! I woke up early this morning to make this myself!” Kimishita clicked his tongue. “What's with you out of nowhere, huh? I don’t need your pity! Don’t go around pretending to act generous just to stroke your own ego!”

Ooshiba’s calm slipped and fell. That remark wasn’t something he could let slide, no matter what Kazama had told him about being nice. “The fuck did you say?” he burst out. “I’m not doing that shit for my ego! I just wanna do something nice, you ungrateful piece of shit!”

“If you cared, you’d have left me alone already and let me eat my own fucking lunch!” Kimishita jumped up to his feet. “What are you trying to be nice to me for, anyway?”

“Don’t need no reason!” Ooshiba crossed his arms, pouting. “Nice people can be nice just like that. Not that you’d ever get it!”

“What are you implying, huh?” Kimishita glared at him in fury, then he clicked his tongue and sat back down. “For the record,” he added in a calmer voice, “you’re not acting like you’re being nice for no reason. I can smell your ulterior motive from here!”

“Oh yeah? Maybe my ulterior motive is that I care about you!”

Kimishita opened his mouth to yell back, only to stop short in his tracks, gaping at Ooshiba with saucer-wide eyes. “What?”

Ooshiba blinked back, trying to process what he had just said. “What?”

Awkward silence. Little by little Ooshiba could feel his face turning red.

“Listen,” Kimishita grumbled, lowering his voice and averting his face, motioning Ooshiba closer to his desk. “Do I look bad or something? If you think I look exhausted or lost weight–”

“What? No!” Ooshiba shook his head. “I just wanna do something nice for you ‘cause I care.”

Kimishita stared at him. For a long, long moment.

Then he sighed, picking up his lunch box and rising from his chair. “Fine,” he said. “You can get me something small. I guess I can fit in a bit more than what’s in this box anyway.”

Ooshiba shot up, instantly grinning like a champion. This was actually going really well. Now he just needed to drag Kimishita to the cafeteria and buy him the nicest small piece of food they had to offer, and he was a big step closer to winning his heart. He needed to thank Kazama later.

“Did you hear me? Just something  _small_ ,” Kimishita said again as they walked through the hallways towards the cafeteria. “You’re lucky I’m not one to say no to free food.”

Ooshiba paid little heed to that. In his mind he was already coming up with all the delicious things he could treat Kimishita to, picturing his expression in the face of all the marvelous food. There was that little blush he always got, that sparkle in his eyes, and quite frankly it was among the most adorable sights Ooshiba had ever seen. He couldn’t wait to invoke it again. And again and again, as many times as he wanted.

He was so lost in thought that he nearly walked straight past the cafeteria door, stopped only by Kimishita’s hand snatching him by the arm and pulling him into the right direction. “Hey, don’t space out, idiot,” he said. “And what was that expression for? It was creepy.”

Ooshiba felt his face to try and figure out what expression he had been making, but he couldn’t tell. “I had no expression,” he said. “You’re seeing things.”

“If you mean that literally, I agree!” Kimishita shot back. “With that face you looked like a pervert!”

Ooshiba turned red. Had he smirked to himself at the thought of Kimishita’s face or something? “Did not!” he replied. “You just find everything creepy!”

“Not everything,” Kimishita said, clicking his tongue. “It’s just that you’ve been acting creepy. Any good reason for your sudden change in attitude?”

“I haven’t changed my attitude. I’ve always been this nice.”

“Who was it that refused to pay for my parfait the time you dragged me to meet with Aiba again, huh?”

Ooshiba pouted. “That was ages ago. Let that die.”

“It was last month,” Kimishita deadpanned. “Besides, what about the time you offered me that grilled meat and then ate it yourself?”

“That was ‘cause I wanted to teach you a lesson!”

“Fair enough! But what about saying you’d never give something like this to a peasant like me, huh?”

“Let  _that_  die too!”

“You can’t just tell people to let die everything that contradicts your statements!”

“Oh yeah? Says who?”

“Says basic reason and common sense!”

“I don’t care ‘bout them,” Ooshiba said as they moved up in line.

“Yeah,” Kimishita shot back. “Everyone can tell that much.”

Ooshiba nodded smugly, whipping out his wallet before his brain caught up to the insult. “Wait!” he blurted out. “Asshole–”

Kimishita smirked, and every insult momentarily disappeared from Ooshiba’s brain. A smirk was essentially a smile. This guy was smiling.  _Smiling_. Coming from Kimishita that was almost as rare and precious as a full-on laugh.

Dammit, he was  _gorgeous_  when he smiled. Ooshiba was weak. And he hated how much power Kimishita had over his feelings.

“You... uh...” Averting his gaze, he buried his hands deep in his pockets, hoping Kimishita hadn’t noticed how red his face must be. “Whatever. Pick out a snack. It’s almost our turn.”

“What’s that?” Kimishita asked, his voice clearly teasing, his green eyes twinkling when Ooshiba made the mistake of looking at him again. “The great Ooshiba Kiichi willingly concedes in an argument?”

Ooshiba couldn’t produce a coherent reply; he was too busy trying not to die from acute emotional overload.

Snorting, Kimishita turned away, eyeing the menu and wondering what to get. They moved further up in line. Ooshiba fidgeted with his wallet. He already couldn’t wait for Kimishita’s expression when he dug into whatever delicious item he picked, to say nothing of finally being one step closer to winning his heart. This was going to be  _so_  worth it.

Their turn came, and Kimishita ordered without hesitation. “I’d like the chicken sandwich, please.”

“And I’m paying,” Ooshiba said immediately, opening his wallet. Without listening to the price he whipped out a bill of cash. This much should be enough for anything Kimishita wanted– no, for everything on the entire menu, combined.

The lunch lady stared at the bill in his hand, clearly awed. So awed that Ooshiba was taken by surprise when she suddenly said, “I’m sorry, but we don’t take such large bills.”

In hindsight, Ooshiba thought, that expression might not have been awe after all.

“What do you mean,” he said, “you don’t take large bills?”

“Precisely what I said,” she replied. “We can’t take them. I’m very sorry, but we’re not allowed, and even if we were, we don’t have enough change.” She gave him a long look. “Don’t you have any coins?”

Ooshiba dug through his wallet– only to remember that he had spent the last of his coins at the family restaurant yesterday.

And he had no smaller bills either.

Uh-oh.

“You,” he began just as Kimishita gave him an impatient, disappointed glare, “uh... d’you take cards?”

The lunch lady sighed and shook her head.

Ooshiba began to panic. Frantic, he spun right and left, desperately searching for something, anything, or anyone, who could help him out of his situation. “You!” he said to the guy behind them in line. “Can you give me a buncha smaller bills if I give you this one?”

The guy stared at the bill in his hand, then he snorted. “No way,” he said. “Why the hell would I carry this much money around with me?”

“You can keep the change! Just gimme enough for the stupid sandwich!” Ooshiba grabbed his shoulders. “Is this not an awesome deal?”

The guy’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Is this a scam?” he said. “Is the money fake or something?”

“No!” Kimishita was positively glaring at him by now, and so were the people in the growing line behind them. “I can explain later! Just gimme the fucking cash so I can–”

“Forget it!”

Ooshiba spun around.

“So you drag me to the cafeteria,” Kimishita growled as he stepped out of line, “acting all smug and generous, all without once checking if you can actually fucking pay for my food?” He clicked his tongue. “Stop embarrassing yourself and forget it!”

Dropping the other student, Ooshiba stumbled after him, ready to pull him back. He just needed another chance, a minute or two, and then he would have the solution to this problem and Kimishita could enjoy his food. “Kimishita, wai–”

Kimishita didn’t even glance over his shoulder as he marched back towards the door. “I’ve waited enough already!” he shouted. “I’m leaving.”

With that he disappeared through the door and left Ooshiba standing helplessly at the front of the line.

This jerk. This asshole. Why was he leaving now? A few more minutes and he could have had his food, and everyone would have been happy! What was he so impatient for? Couldn’t he just calm down and wait?

A thought flashed through Ooshiba’s head, and he darted out of the line, ignoring people’s confused shouts behind him. “Kimishita!” he yelled. “Wait!”

Kimishita ignored him, and Ooshiba ran faster. “I said  _wait_ , asshole!” he shouted as he caught up to him, grabbing his shoulders and yanking him to a halt. “If I can’t buy you that fucking sandwich, at least lemme give you some cash so you can buy meat or some shit from the store later.”

For a few seconds Kimishita almost looked intrigued. Then he scoffed, and his lips curled upwards into a furious scowl.

“You think I’m a beggar?” he snapped. “Stop acting like I’m starving! I never asked for your  _generosity_!”

“Oh yeah?” Ooshiba shot back, genuinely frustrated by now. “You’re the guy who  _always_  wants more money! So why don’t you take any from me, shithead?”

“Because you’re obnoxious about it, moron! If you want to do me a favor that badly, drop the generous act and just buy from our store or something!”

Ooshiba paused, suddenly sensing an opportunity. “Can I?”

“What?”

“Can I go to your place?” Ooshiba asked, trying to keep his eyes from shining too much. “And buy shit from you?”

Kimishita’s eye twitched in confusion. “What kind of question is that? No sane businessman would say no!”

Ooshiba smirked.

An idea began to form. An idea with less potential to backfire.

_Just you wait, Kimishita. I’m gonna romance the shit out of you. And then you’re gonna love me so much._

\---

The school day was too short, and yet it took forever.

All day Kazama was sitting on coals, delighting in Tsukushi’s company and yet waiting impatiently for the school day to be over. Because today was the day. Today, once the bell rang after their last class, Kazama would spend the entire weekend at Tsukushi’s place.

Make him feel like they were dating, Kiichiman had told him, and Kazama had thought up a full plan. He hadn’t revealed any hints of it to Tsukushi, of course. The bouquet of sunflowers was waiting in a vase at home, ready to picked up when he darted to his place under the pretense of picking up his overnight bag. He already couldn’t wait to see the look on Tsukushi’s face when he presented the flowers to him. He even knew what words to present them with. All he hoped for now was that the flowers would make it to Tsukushi’s house undamaged.

At long, long last the final bell rang, and Kazama excused himself with a sheepish grin. “I still gotta pick up my stuff from home,” he said. “Y’know, the bag’s kinda big. So I’m just gonna dash to my place and turn up on your doorstep later, okay?”

Tsukushi seemed a little surprised by that, but he didn’t suspect anything. “Okay!” he said with an emphatic nod. “I’ll use the time to help my mom prepare the house. See you later, Kazama-kun!”

Grinning and waving, Kazama darted off to get to his bicycle and rushed home faster than he ever had before. He crossed several red lights and nearly crashed into an oncoming car, but that was worth it. No risk, no fun. Riding slowly meant less time spent with Tsukushi– no, worse; it would mean making Tsukushi wait, and that was unacceptable. Besides, Kazama had never cared too much about traffic rules when cycling in the first place.

Dropping his bike on the ground, he ran into the house and up the stairs, taking two and three at a time until he reached the door of his apartment. Nobody was home at this time, of course. Unlocking the door and unceremoniously ditching his school bag, he changed out of his school uniform while running, throwing on jeans and a hoodie, snatching his overnight bag, and running into the kitchen to pick up the flowers.

Only to freeze mid-step.

The flowers, which he could have sworn he had put into a vase yesterday evening, were not where they should have been.

But if they weren’t in a kitchen, then... could it be...?

Could he have forgotten them somewhere else?

Kazama tried to replay yesterday’s evening in his mind, but he couldn’t tell anymore. Right, he had come back here with the flowers. Then he had climbed the stairs, unlock the apartment door and toed off his shoes, temporarily placing the bouquet of flowers on top of the drawer next to the door to take off his coat and–

–and then?

Had he picked them up again afterwards?

And if not...

Kazama didn’t wait to think about that. Instead he spun around, nearly slipped, and darted lightning-fast back into the corridor.

Sure enough, there lay the bouquet, right on top of the drawer, in the same spot he had left them damn near twenty hours ago. Still wrapped inside the paper from the flower shop. And without a drop of water since yesterday.

Filled with dread and premonition, Kazama opened the paper, hoping against hope that the sunflowers were sturdy enough to somehow take no damage from that. But nothing he had thought could prepare him for what he saw.

The sunflowers were not only wilted, they were squashed. When he held them up they hung their heads, their petals limp and unhappy and sticking in every direction where they had been pressed against each other or the drawer surface. They hadn’t died, thankfully, but they were in dire need of water and care. And at least a few hours of standing peacefully in a vase.

A few hours? He didn’t have that kind of time! And there was no way he could give the flowers to Tsukushi looking like  _this_!

What to do? What to do?

Should he leave them alone? If he put them into a vase now, they would hopefully be revived by Monday, and Kazama could give them to Tsukushi at school, weird as that would seem. Then again, it would bug him. He had bought them for  _today_. The only reason why he had headed home at all was to retrieve them. If it hadn’t been for the stupid flowers, he could have gone directly to Tsukushi’s place and basked in some additional precious moments of his best friend’s company.

This was bad, this was bad...

Should he ditch the flowers and buy new ones? No way, no way; he didn’t have enough money. So that meant he had to make  _something_ —anything—out of the ones he had. Which meant that, ideally, he should try and get them back to looking normal in a handful of minutes.

Kazama shook his head. First of all, he thought, they needed some water, and fast. Grabbing the bouquet, he hurried to the kitchen, snatching the old vase from the shelf and filling it with water, hastily arranging the flowers inside. Step one. What next? He had heard somewhere that cutting the dry ends off the stems could help flowers take in water and live longer. So he snatched the scissors, took the flowers back out, and struggled with the thick, sturdy stems until he finally gave up on the scissors and used a knife.

Back into the vase. Kazama pulled out his phone, hastily tapping _how to revive wilted flowers fast_  into the search engine. He opened the first page that popped up, skimming over the instructions. Putting them in fresh water, check. Cutting off the ends of the stems, check. Keeping them cool and dark, changing the water every three days... Oh, for crying out loud, he didn’t have that kind of time!

He scrolled further down. There was a section on adding things to the water to preserve the flowers. That sounded more promising. Floral preservative, it said here, the one that had been attached to the flowers... Kazama sprinted back to retrieve the paper they had been wrapped in. Sure enough, there was a small pack of that stuff, which he hastily snatched and poured into the water. There. The full dose. If that didn’t help the flowers fast, what else would?

Kazama stared. And waited.

Admittedly, hoping for the preservative and water to do their magic within minutes was probably a little unrealistic. But he was desperate over here. Every minute that passed was one more minute of making Tsukushi wait, and eventually, one more minute of making him worry. Tsukushi and his mom both got worried so easily. He couldn’t keep sticking around here forever waiting for the poor flowers to return back to health!

One minute passed. Two minutes. Three minutes.

Nothing happened at all.

Kazama paced back and forth. No good. The flowers would take much longer to perk up their heads, and he couldn’t wait that long. Should he just take them from their vase now and hope for the best? Or–

Wait a second.

He couldn’t take them  _from_  their vase.

But he could take the vase.

Before he had time to rethink the decision, Kazama snatched the flower vase from the table, precariously balancing it in his hands as he slipped back into his outdoor clothes and slung his overnight bag over his shoulder. Stepping out of the door, he walked back down the stairs and remembered that his bicycle still lay on the ground.

He looked back and forth between his vase-occupied hands and the bike and sighed. Unless he magically grew a second pair of arms (which was unlikely) or managed to pick up his bike with his feet (which was damn near impossible), he would have to choose between holding one and the other. And that, in return, meant finding a way to place the flower vase so it wouldn’t fall over.

...And even then, he realized, he would still have to pick it up while holding the bike and start cycling with it in his hands. The actual bike-riding part afterwards wasn’t much of a problem. Kazama knew how to cycle without using his hands.

Well, maybe he could pick up his bike with one hand and hold the flowers in the other... like this. Oh crap, no, not like this; the water was about to spill out of the vase, and that would be a disaster. Like that, maybe? Cramped, but it worked. Ow. No, it didn’t. And he had just dropped his bike on top of his foot. Great.

Groaning, Kazama set down the vase, carefully leaning it against the wall of the house and slowly letting go, standing up at a snail’s pace. It seemed to hold. He took another step back. Now he just needed to pick up his bicycle and–

The vase leaned dangerously sideways, and Kazama leaped forward just in time to keep it from falling over.

“Yikes,” he muttered to himself, grinning as a way to cope with the wave of panic rising up on him. “What do I do, what do I do...”

It really was too bad that the vase was so small. It was more suited to roses and tulips, not sunflowers, however small these ones were for their kind; but it was the only one they had, and without it Kazama would have had to resort to a bottle or, worse, a glass of water. Part of him pondered the idea of going out to buy a bigger vase. How much did they cost, anyway? And where was he supposed to get one?

Never mind; no time for that now. Following a sudden impulse (hopefully a wiser one than before, he thought), Kazama took off his scarf and draped it on the ground to stabilize the poor vase. How he was supposed to put it back on again, he didn’t know. Probably not at all, and it would be left in the overnight bag with the rest of his stuff. Not much point in a frozen scarf around his neck, anyway.

Miraculously, the plan worked, and the poor flower-vase remained upright long enough for Kazama to pick up his bike, prop it against his side, and grab scarf and vase while struggling to coordinate himself. The bike leaned precariously against his leg. With one arm Kazama stuffed his scarf into his bag, the other was closed tightly around the vase. Then his now-free hand took hold of the bike again and he swung himself in the saddle (without knocking anything over for a change), and finally, finally, off he was.

Except now, of course, he had to go slowly. Very slowly. In part because he only had one free hand at best, but mostly because the stupid flowers were so big he could barely see past them.

Kazama wobbled along the street, leaning as far to one side as his balance would allow, but he still couldn’t see much except flower-stems and petals. The flowers looked a little better than before, at least, or maybe it was him imagining things. He just wondered if they would survive the cold. Sunflowers weren’t made for freezing winter weather, and the water inside the vase–

Oh, crap.

He would have to hurry, or the water might start freezing and the flowers take damage. But hurry was the very thing he couldn’t do, not with these very flowers right in front of his face and only one hand to keep his bicycle in check. He had to carry them some other way, or find a way to keep them warm. Should he go back upstairs and get the paper they had been wrapped in? Would that even help?

Or maybe, he thought, if he stuffed the vase into the front of his jacket...

Kazama tried it out, but after a few feet he quit in frustration. It didn’t work in the slightest; the water was splashing everywhere and seeping into his clothes, and he was freezing. No good. This way it wasn’t only the flowers who would die; he would die too, of pneumonia.

Tired and frustrated, he was just about to give up when another idea crossed his mind. The scarf! If he wrapped the flowers in that—somehow, with a lot of difficulty and improvisation—maybe they would survive the slow trip.

So he thought, and so he did. The scarf wasn’t nearly long enough to fully protect them, but Kazama hoped it was better than nothing. Picking up his path, he continued to cycle, painfully aware of every single minute he lost on his way to Tsukushi.

“Crap, crap, crap,” he muttered to himself, once again bearing that half-terrified grin. “He’s gonna be so worried when I get there...”

Well, said part of his brain, at least he could make it into a declaration about how much he cared about Tsukushi. Spin a hilarious, hair-raising tale out of it and not-so-jokingly declare how many misadventures he had gone through just to deliver these flowers to him. He just really hoped they would be in a half-acceptable state when he got there. Otherwise this entire business would just be horribly embarrassing, tale or no tale.

As if on cue, he almost overlooked an old lady crossing the street, swerved aside, and crash-landed abruptly on the sidewalk.

His first thought wasn’t about his bag, or his bike, or even himself and the fact that he had just spilled water from the vase all over his clothes. His first thought immediately darted to the flowers. The very same flowers which, now in a dangerously chipped vase, lay scattered all over the concrete.

Jumping to his feet, he snatched them off the ground, hastily stuffing them into the vase after checking to see that there were still a few drops of water left in it. They still hung their heads a little and were squashed to boot, and now they were also battered. He tried to adjust the petals as much as he could, but some of them had fallen off in the crash, and unfortunately he didn’t happen to carry superglue with him at the moment. Should he make a dash for the nearest store and try to glue them back on?

His phone gave a buzz, and that answered it. No time now. Besides, considering his luck, attempting to glue the petals back would probably end in yet another disaster. He didn’t want to end up with his fingertips superglued to the flowers or something.

Gathering himself back off the ground, he scrambled and struggled back into the seat of his bike, his free hand reaching into his pocket to pull out his phone. Of course the message was from Tsukushi. How late was he, exactly? Kazama wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

Screw this. He was just going to get these flowers to Tsukushi’s house as fast as he could, hoping and praying they wouldn’t take any more damage.

He wobbled and swerved, and he went maddeningly slowly, and now on top of everything his clothes were wet and he was shivering too. His phone buzzed again. Kazama fought off the urge to stop and answer on the spot; it pained him to leave Tsukushi waiting and worrying, but typing a reply would delay him even further, and his fingers were frozen too numb to type anything coherent anyway. So he struggled on. And on. And  _on_.

Dammit, had the way to Tsukushi’s house always been this insufferably  _long_?

Finally, finally, after what felt like an eternity, he shakily turned and wobbled into Tsukushi’s street. At long last. At this point he felt like a human icicle. Should have worn his scarf on his neck after all. And not spilled water all over himself in these subzero temperatures. But the flowers. The freaking flowers, which were still hanging their freaking heads despite all his efforts.

Before he could figure out what to do with his bike while he rang the doorbell, footsteps hurried to greet him, along with a welcome, familiar voice. “Kazama-kun!”

“Tsukushi!” he shouted, peeking past the sunflowers and waving excitedly. “So sorry it got so late, man! I swear it wasn’t on purpose, some stuff happened and then–”

He was cut off by two small warm hands closing around his own, wide blue eyes meeting his gaze from a chubby-cheeked face flushed red from the cold. “I’m so glad you’re here!” Tsukushi said, gripping him tightly, a source of sun-like heat against Kazama’s frozen hand. “I’m sorry, I got impatient waiting at home and went outside to meet you– what’s this?”

His eyes rested on the sunflowers, the wilted, battered sunflowers in their chipped little vase and the scarf wrapped around them, and suddenly Kazama felt extraordinarily stupid. Here he was, late to meet his best friend, all because he had been hell-bent on bringing him a gift that hadn’t even come out very good. Was this truly something to give to Tsukushi? Would it not have been better to leave the flowers at home after all and just come here quickly, trying to win his heart with pure charm and affection instead of this?

“Well,” he said sheepishly, lowering the vase as if trying to get it out of Tsukushi’s sight, “that’s the stuff.”

“They’re so pretty!”

Kazama blinked, staring in disbelief as Tsukushi leaned down, staring in awe at the unhappy flowers. “They’re so yellow and bright,” he said, smiling and running his fingers along the petals. “Did you bring them all the way here? That must have been so much trouble! I’m sorry, I would have helped if I’d known...”

“They’re for you.”

Tsukushi straightened up in surprise, and Kazama smiled, gently extending the flowers towards him. He had been stupid, he thought, stupid to think that Tsukushi would judge these flowers just because they were a little battered and beat up. Tsukushi wasn’t that kind of person. Tsukushi was kind and warm and full of love and forgiveness, and he appreciated the gesture, the thought behind it more than anything else.

“Eh?” Tsukushi managed out, his face rapidly turning redder without any influence from the cold. “F-For me?”

“Yeah! I saw them in a store and they reminded me of you, so I got them.” Kazama’s smile widened as he leaned a little closer to the light, the warmth radiating from Tsukushi’s face. “They’re so bright and sunny.”

Tsukushi blushed and giggled, and Kazama wanted to kiss his forehead so badly, but he only reached out and ruffled his hair. “Sorry they look so bad,” he added with a sheepish grin. “I uh... kinda forgot to water them yesterday. I tried to save them by bringing them here in a vase, but it was harder than I thought and I may or may not have crashed my bike once. Don’t worry, I’m fine!” he quickly added upon seeing Tsukushi’s expression. “I just hope I didn’t kill them...”

Taking the flowers from Kazama’s hands, Tsukushi inspected them closely, then he shook his head. “They just need some warmth and water, I think,” he said. “Let’s go! Mom is waiting with some hot chocolate.”

“Hot chocolate? Tell your angel mom I’d literally die for her,” Kazama said as he hurried after Tsukushi, still pushing his bike. “I’m freezing!”

He had barely finished his sentence when a sneeze erupted from him, and he sniffled and glanced with concern at his still-wet clothes. Uh-oh.

He just hoped the cold he had invariably caught would be kind enough to wait until after the weekend.


	7. Lovesick (Literally)

Tsukushi smiled as he extended his free hand to reach for the door, but before he could do anything, it opened from the inside. “Tsukushi! There you are!” Tsukamoto Nozomi exclaimed as the boys shuffled in, taking off their shoes and closing the door. “And Kazama-kun too! Thank goodness, I was just about to head out and look for you myself!”

She looked relieved as she spoke, and Kazama knew Tsukushi and his family well enough by now to tell she was being entirely serious with that remark. “Sorry, sorry,” he said sheepishly, giving a disarmingly awkward laugh. “I got held up a little...”

“Never you mind! I’m just glad you’re here now, and safe. You never know what can happen after it gets dark outside!” Kazama laughed again, and she crossed her arms. “Don’t laugh at me, I was worried! What with you somewhere out there, all alone with your bicycle...”

Kazama smiled; he appreciated her fussing, even if he found it unnecessary. “Thanks, Nozomi-san,” he said. “But don’t worry, it’s fine. I know how to defend myself.”

Nozomi looked skeptical, but Tsukushi nodded enthusiastically. “Don’t worry, Mom, he really does! Remember how he beat up those guys that bullied me?”

Laughing, Kazama opened his mouth to reply that he didn’t always happen to carry nunchucks with him, but before he could say anything Nozomi’s eyes went round, and she nodded. “I remember!” she said. “I wish I’d been there to see that! You must have been so cool there, Kazama-kun!”

“Not as cool as Tsukushi standing up for himself against three whole guys!” Kazama replied immediately, nudging his best friend in the ribs. “Right, Tsukushi?”

Tsukushi hastily shook his head, but he smiled and turned the most adorable shade of pink. “You’re exaggerating again,” he said. “I wasn’t cool.”

“The cooliest.”

“No!”

Kazama wanted to keep showering him with compliments until he accepted them, but at that moment they were both interrupted by Nozomi. “Tsukushi,” she said, “where did you get those flowers?”

They both paused. In all the chatter and banter they had completely forgotten about the sunflowers.

“Oh, them!” Tsukushi said before Kazama could reply, his face lighting up all over again. “Kazama-kun brought them! He carried them all the way on his bike!”

“Really?” Nozomi replied, and Tsukushi nodded enthusiastically. Nozomi gazed up at Kazama with sparkling eyes. “Kazama-kun, that’s so cool!”

“Uh, well,” he said, still too reminded of his misadventures on the way to consider it all even remotely  _cool_. “Think nothing of it!”

“Don’t be so humble, young man! It was very cool, and it’s very kind of you! They’re so pretty and yellow! And big! Getting them here on your bicycle must have been so much work–” Nozomi paused, and the sparkly-eyed look on her face turned into one of accusing worry. “You did something very dangerous there, didn’t you?”

Kazama laughed it off. “It was fine, don’t worry!”

“ _Kazama-kun!_ ”

Kazama jolted. This time it wasn’t only the mother shouting his name in concern, but the son too.

“I promise,” he said, smiling at their comically strict faces; they reminded him of two puppies trying to look threatening, “it wasn’t that dangerous. I won’t try to do it again, okay?” That one was a promise he was already determined to keep. Never was he pulling such a stunt again, ever. No matter what happened, it wasn’t worth the mess.

They stared at him for another moment, mother and son in sync, then they both simultaneously sighed as their features softened once more. “Enough of that!” Nozomi said as she took the flowers. “These here need warmth and water and a bigger vase. Tsukushi, do you know where the big vase is? The one where we used to keep the lilies!”

“Of course!” Tsukushi replied, already darting off. He stopped in the doorway, spun back around, and returned to his mother to grab the vase and the flowers. “I’ll handle it, Mom,” he said. “Just a minute!”

Off he was. Nozomi smiled at his retreating back. “He’s all grown up,” she muttered. “Although sometimes I wish he was a little less helpful. I’m forgetting how to do things on my own.”

Kazama smiled fondly. “That’s how he is.”

For a very long moment Nozomi’s eyes came to rest on his face, searching for something perhaps, or trying to read his expression. He tried his best not to squirm. Somehow Nozomi’s motherly gaze seemed just a little too knowing for comfort.

“You really like him,” she said at last, “don’t you, Kazama-kun?”

Part of Kazama wondered if her question might have a deeper meaning, but he dismissed it as paranoia. “Of course I do,” he said cheerfully. “He’s my best friend in the whole world!”

Nozomi laughed, reaching up to ruffle his hair and stopping halfway, her hand brushing against his still-damp clothes.

“Oh dear,” she exclaimed, “where did you get that? No, wait, don’t explain. Hurry up and change into something dry before you catch a cold! Tsukushi and I will use the time to heat up your cocoa again.”

“Delicious!” Kazama replied, suddenly feeling very warm and comfortable despite his wet clothes. “Nozomi-san, not to be dramatic, but I would literally die for you.”

\---

A few minutes later they all sat around the table, Kazama in his spare set of clothes, slurping hot cocoa from steaming mugs, Kazama’s back snuggled firmly against the heater. The sunflowers stood in a vase on the table. Kazama had no idea what magic Tsukushi had worked on them, but for some reason they suddenly looked a lot better.

It was mostly Tsukushi who did the talking, a rare enough occurrence, but Kazama found that it was most frequent in the safety of his own home. A big smile on his face, he chatted happily about everyday occurences, sometimes talking to his mother, sometimes to Kazama, sometimes to both. Every story he told, he told with love; he spoke with admiration and adoration of his friends both at school and in the neighborhood, gushed about the kindness of the random stranger who had helped him when he had been lost and too shy to ask for the way, and when he talked about the good book he had started recently his whole face seemed to glow. Kazama was content mostly listening. This was a side of Tsukushi not everyone got to see, and he felt all the prouder to be allowed so deeply into his comfort zone.

After a particularly funny story about the neighbor lady and her laundry-stealing cat, however, the conversation slowed down. Tsukushi looked back and forth between Kazama and his mother and blushed. “Ah, um–” he said as he lowered his head, his hands fidgeting in his lap. “I’m sorry, I’ve been doing all the talking... Now it’s your turn, Kazama-kun!”

“To talk? Don’t worry, man, I’m not in a hurry.” Kazama leaned slightly closer to him and smiled. “You’ve been doing it way better anyway.”

Tsukushi went pink, shifting and fidgeting, clearly at a loss for how to respond. “I really haven’t,” he finally said with a small smile. “But thank you.”

“Don’t be humble!” Kazama said, wrapping an arm about Tsukushi and pulling him so close he almost landed in his lap. “I love listening to you talk, you know?”

_Full flirt mode_ , he reminded himself. He tilted his head, smiling warmly, his eyes locking firmly with Tsukushi’s blue ones, allowing himself to sink into the sight, basking in the warmth of the small frame leaning against his own. He wanted to kiss him so much. But he held back. Now wasn’t the right time. Besides, Nozomi was still sitting right across from them.

...He wasn’t being too obvious, was he?

His face heating up, Kazama spun around, ready to grin sheepishly at Nozomi if she questioned him; but she only watched them both with a serene look on her face, proud and almost wistful. “Ah– Don’t mind me!” she burst out when she noticed Kazama’s gaze. “I’m just happy you two get along so well.”

Kazama suppressed a sigh of relief, but part of him was frustrated too. Did this obvious flirting still look like  _getting along well_  to Tsukamoto Tsukushi and his angelic mom? These two really were alike. And too pure for this world.

In any case it was probably better to relocate his flirting to a time and place when he and Tsukushi were alone.

“Anyway!” he said with forceful cheeriness, rising from his chair and casually taking Tsukushi’s hand to pull him up with him. “Should we go somewhere else? We can’t sit at this table forever, right?”

Tsukushi seemed surprised, but he nodded, and with a skip of his heartbeat Kazama noticed that he readily returned Kazama’s grip on his hand. “Sure!” he said. “Should we go to my room? Mom, if you need help with dinner or anything else, just–”

“–call both of us!” Kazama quickly finished the sentence. “I’d love to help too!”

Nozomi raised her hands in protest, her expression torn between looking grateful and a little offended. “Kazama-kun, please!” she exclaimed. “Don’t worry about it! You are our guest!”

Kazama pulled his lips into a pout. “But it’s no fun to sit around while you guys do everything.”

Mother and son exchanged a glance. Then they laughed and nodded. “It’s okay!” Tsukushi said. “The more the merrier, right, Mom?”

They all laughed, and Kazama felt that warmth again, the comfort of being home and welcome even though he was technically a guest. Sometimes it amazed him how dearly he loved these two, this boy who outshone the sun in brightness and warmth and gentle compassion for anything and everything, and his mother who had welcomed him with open arms and almost treated him as a son of her own. They were so simple, so warm and loving. Not at all complicated. It was something he often missed in his own family, even after they had reconciled.

Glowing from within, he pulled Tsukushi along by his hand as he sprinted a few steps and skidded his way towards the door to his room. Tsukushi seemed startled but quickly played along. For a moment they slid gracefully, then they slipped and stumbled and crash-landed on the floor in a pile, Tsukushi’s head on Kazama’s shoulder and his elbow pressing awkwardly into his ribcage.

They blinked in surprise. Then they both burst out laughing.

“What was that?” Kazama said amid the laughter, and then, “That was fun!”

Tsukushi looked at him. He looked at Tsukushi. Both knew exactly what the other was thinking.

“Let’s do it again!”

\---

A lot of sliding, skidding and a number of bruises later, they did find their way into Tsukushi’s room after all. With their arms looped around each other, breathless and laughing, they were just about to open the door when Kazama suddenly and very guiltily remembered his plan.

He was supposed to make Tsukushi feel loved like a boyfriend. And here he was, acting exactly the same as always! So maybe he had been a little more flirty, fine. There had been the flowers and the hand-holding, even if the latter didn’t really count; they had held hands before, totally platonically, ever since Kazama had suggested the rather absurd idea of holding hands while running to match their pace to each other. And the flowers... well. Considering the mess he had brought them in, he highly doubted they had registered as romantic.

Make things romantic, he thought. What exactly did that even mean, anyway?

Romantic... romantic... gentlemanlike... Oh!

Taking a step ahead, Kazama took the doorknob from Tsukushi’s hands, opening the door and motioning him inside with a slight bow and a grin. Only after Tsukushi had laughed, thanked him and gone inside did it occur to him that the gesture hadn’t looked romantic so much as goofy and silly.

He wondered if he should have asked Kiichiman for more advice. Kiichiman was a disaster, but he was also emotional, intense and, if it came down to it, quite the romantic. More of a romantic than Kazama was, anyway. Kazama was affectionate, adoring... but romantic? What the hell was a romantic gesture? He racked his brain all over, but he kept coming up all flowers!

They sat down on the floor, huddled together around the small table in the middle of the room, their belongings strewn all around them. They still had homework to do over the weekend, and they both knew it was best to get it over with. Not that it kept them from getting distracted. They cracked jokes and doodled all over the margins, and suddenly they found themselves chatting merrily about something that had nothing to do with homework at all. Half sheepish, half unapologetic, they laughed it off and went back to work.

Kazama was done first, as usual. His thoughts strayed away from school and roamed around the room. This was still no different from their usual friendly hangouts. How had he managed to seduce so many people before? Well, to be fair, usually it had been the girls (and the rare few boys) asking him out, not the other way around; Kazama himself had never done much aside from cracking jokes and the occasional winking and pick-up line.

This feeling was new to him. This feeling of really, really, really wanting Tsukushi to feel treasured and special.

“Kazama-kun?”

He snapped out of his thoughts. Tsukushi was looking at him, his pencil hovering awkwardly over his notes, his expression confounded and more than a little helpless. “I keep getting stuck,” he said, pointing at one of his math problems. “Do you know what I’m doing wrong?”

An idea popped up in Kazama’s head, and he shifted over, sitting behind Tsukushi to rest his head on his shoulder as he peered onto the page. “Oh, sure,” he said, taking Tsukushi’s pencil hand and gently leading it to the spot where he had been stuck. “Start again from here. I’m gonna go through this slowly.”

Tsukushi nodded, and Kazama guided him through the formulas, snuggled up against his back, his hand never letting go of Tsukushi’s. Several times he stopped and explained things again, and every time Tsukushi interrupted him with a question he felt proud to see him like this, not scared to look stupid or annoying, willing to ask as many times as he needed to understand things.

His head hurt a little, he realized as he spoke. He had to clear his throat more frequently than usual too. Damn it, he just hoped his voice would last. How was he supposed to charm Tsukushi if he was incapable of talking?

He tried to ignore the thought. This would be fine. This had nothing to do with his misadventure earlier. He couldn’t have caught a cold that quickly, and it wasn’t like it would strike him full force a mere handful of hours later. Colds didn’t work like that.

...Right?  _Right?_

He hoped so. If only the stupid headache would go away.

\---

The headache did not go away. If anything it got stronger.

Kazama tried to hide it, but it was horribly uncomfortable. There seemed to be a constant pressure on his forehead and the entire upper half of his face, and the most annoying part was that it came from within. His entire face felt uncomfortably warm. Not even in the feverish way. More like everything underneath it was inflamed and irritated.

And what the hell was that scratchy feeling in his throat?

Kazama cleared his throat and pinched the bridge of his nose. He wanted to take a nap. Not that he would. It had to be almost time for dinner, and then they would probably go to bed soon anyway. Unless they caught a good movie on TV, of course. In that case they would probably curl up on the couch and stay there for another two hours.

If Tsukushi noticed that something was off, he didn’t say anything. Kazama mentally thanked him for it. If he or his mom found out he was getting sick, they would probably send him home. And he didn’t want to go home over a minor inconvenience like this. A few hours, he thought, was the longest this would probably last; by tomorrow morning everything would be fine again. He was simply exhausted from the adventurous trip. A good night’s sleep would cure it all just fine.

Before the evening was over, however, Tsukushi did speak up, leaning over to stare at him with a worried frown on his face. “Kazama-kun,” he asked, “are you okay? You look tired.”

Kazama sat straight, suddenly wishing to have a mirror at hand to check how bad he looked. “Oh... yeah, a bit,” he said dismissively. “I guess the flower stunt thing kinda drained me.” Tsukushi’s eyes widened, and Kazama faked a laugh. “Don’t worry! I’m fine, I just need a bit of rest.”

Tsukushi stared at him for a very long moment. Then resolve crossed his face, and he jumped to his feet and darted off without a word. Kazama stared in confusion, but before he could say anything, the door swung back open and Tsukushi returned with a blanket in his hands.

Kazama gaped, not sure if he should laugh or be startled. “Hey, what–”

Tsukushi didn’t let him articulate his question. Padding across the room with speedy feet, he draped the blanket over Kazama’s shoulders and wrapped him in it as best as he could.

“Please make yourself comfortable,” he said as he stepped back, visibly satisfied with his work. “You can lie down on it and curl up in it all at once! Should I show you?”

Kazama tightened the blanket around himself, half baffled, half embarrassed. “I promise, I’m okay,” he said with a sheepish laugh. “Thanks, but...”

Before Tsukushi could reply, Kazama was shaken by an abrupt sneeze.

“It’s okay, it’s okay!” he hurried to say as Tsukushi already ran out for the tissue box. “I told you, there’s no need to worry!”

Well, maybe a little need to worry, he thought as he sneezed again. His nose felt weirdly irritated, like it was about to start running at any moment. His throat was scratchy too. At least the headache was better. But he still didn’t exactly feel great. In fact, he was beginning to feel rather miserable.

But still, he told himself, it wasn’t that bad. Not bad enough for Tsukushi to need to look after him, at any rate; that went against every plan he had ever had!  _He_  was supposed to spoil  _Tsukushi_  this weekend, made this friendly hangout feel like a date for him, and yet here he was, being fussed over instead. That needed to change. He had to get his act together, some way or another.

Maybe, he mused, curling up in the blanket and taking a nap wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

He lay down, and Tsukushi was right; it really was comfortable. The blanket was, at least. Kazama, not so much. Lying down just made his head and nose feel even weirder.

Was it better for him to go home after all? If this went on he would cause everyone trouble. Besides, he didn’t want Tsukushi or his mom to get sick too.

Before he could make a decision, Tsukushi came back, carrying a tissue box in one hand and a steaming cup in the other. “You must’ve caught a bit of a cold,” he said as he set both down on the table. “Here, have some tea with honey and lemon! Mom always makes it for me when I have one.”

“Thanks,” Kazama muttered, blowing his nose and groaning; his nose was definitely starting to feel a little runny. “Sorry about the trouble. It’s probably no big deal.”

“Big deal or not, it’s still better to help!” Tsukushi balled up his fists, and suddenly he looked very much like his mom. “And, um... I’m glad I can do something for you, Kazama-kun!”

Kazama paused, the teacup he had picked up hovering in midair. “But you do lots of stuff for me.”

Stopping in his tracks, Tsukushi blinked, his cheeks reddening and his mouth wobbling in surprised embarrassment. “Eh?”

Kazama set down the cup, almost laughing at the cuteness of the image. “What?” he asked, refraining from touching Tsukushi for a change, for fear of getting him sick. “You always try to help, right? That’s the kind of guy you are.”

“W-Well...”

Tsukushi smiled a little, but he still shifted uncomfortably, his eyes locked firmly on the ground. “But you did so much more,” he said. “You, um... You changed my life. Before I met you I didn’t even have any friends except Sayuri-chan, and she’s more of a sister...” A warm glow crossed his face, a gentle fondness that hadn’t been there before. “And now I have a hobby,” he said, his smile growing wider and wider. “And friends! And I can talk to people and I’m almost not nervous anymore!” He balled up his fists as if cheering. “And it’s all thanks to you, Kazama-kun!”

If he didn’t know better, he would definitely kiss him right now.

Kazama swayed a little, his headache shooting back through his skull with a vengeance. He felt hazy. Sleepy. “Wow,” he said as he reached for his teacup again. “Look at you. You’ve gone and knocked me out with your words.”

“Um... Kazama-kun?”

“Look at me,” Kazama went on, barely registering what was happening around him. “See that? I’m swooning... not swaying, swooning. Heh.”

“Kazama-kun, you’re all red!”

“I know, right?” Kazama winked. “I’m blushing...”

A small, pleasantly cool hand came to rest against his forehead. Kazama closed his eyes, wondering if he had always felt this hot, and found he couldn’t tell. He was definitely too hot, he realized now, and in the most unpleasant way. His body felt like it was glowing from the inside, uncomfortably dry and much,  _much_  too hot.

“You have a fever,” Tsukushi interrupted his thoughts.

Kazama took a giant gulp from the tea and set down the cup, sobering up a little thanks to the cool hand against his face. “I do?”

“Yes, I really think you do!” Tsukushi frowned. “Your face is so hot!”

Kazama flashed a victory sign. “I’ve always been hot.”

“Y-Yes, but... not in that way! Now is not the time for jokes, Kazama-kun!”

Snickering at his own joke, Kazama took another gulp of tea. Thank goodness it had cooled down a little by now, thought the still sane part of his brain, or else he would have burned his mouth for sure. Besides, he was pretty sure drinking something too hot wouldn’t exactly help his body cool down.

Tsukushi was right; he did feel feverish. Too hot, too dry, and more than a little dizzy. His throat was scratchy too. Damn it all. How could that happen? So maybe he had been a little careless with the flowers, but he should have been safe from the ensuing cold for at least several more days!

What now? Making this weekend romantic was out of the question. Hell, staying here at all was out of the question. He would get Tsukushi or Nozomi sick, and he would cause trouble over trouble. Definitely not an option unless he wanted to feel very, very guilty later. Or now, for that matter.

He was wobbly, but it should still be okay if he gathered his belongings, apologized to Tsukushi and Nozomi and went home. He wasn’t that sick... yet. If he waited, he might not be able to leave anymore.

On shaky legs he scrambled up and nearly lost balance, catching and steadying himself against the nearby closet. He waited for a moment, blinking drowsily and adjusting himself, then he carefully made his way across the room to his bag.

“Kazama-kun!” Tsukushi burst out, jumping to his feet and stopping at his side to steady him, his hands still pleasantly cool even through Kazama’s clothes. “What are you doing?”

“Getting my stuff,” Kazama said. “I think... I should go... before I get even sicker.”

“Young man, you are  _not_  going  _anywhere_  in that state!”

Kazama jolted and whipped around, nearly losing balance again. In the open door, arms crossed and glaring, was none other than Tsukamoto Nozomi.

“Oh crap,” Tsukushi whispered in his ear. “If she uses  _young man_ , it’s got to be really serious...”

Kazama gulped, but in all honesty, he wouldn’t have needed Tsukushi’s explanation to realize he was in big, huge trouble. The tone of Nozomi’s voice and the look on her face were more than enough to tip him off.

“O-Oh, hi Mom,” he said sheepishly, his brain refusing to provide a more eloquent response at the moment. “What’s up?”

“A lot of things, but you certainly shouldn’t be!” Moving at a speed Kazama would never have thought possible from a tiny little woman in a wheelchair, she crossed the room, yanking the bag out of Kazama’s hands. “Tsukushi said you have a fever, and you sure look it. You can’t go around walking in this state!”

Kazama shuffled his feet, suddenly very embarrassed. “But...”

“Lie down.” Nozomi’s tone suffered no protests. “Kazama-kun, there’s no way you can cycle all the way home when you’re like this!”

Kazama tried to wave it off. “It’s fine, really–”

“Absolutely not!” said mother and son together.

Turning from side to side, Kazama looked back and forth between Tsukushi and his mom and quickly stopped again when it made him dizzy. “Hey, now–”

Nozomi ignored him. “Do you have anyone at home who can pick you up?”

“Uh.” Kazama tried to think, but as far as he could remember his family wasn’t home, and probably wouldn’t be for another good chunk of time. “Don’t think so.”

“Anyone who can take care of you at home?”

“Well, that’s...”

“Then that settles it.” Nozomi placed a hand on his arm, still looking stern but now softening with worry, her eyes growing gentle as they met with his. “You’ll have to stay here at least till you’re well enough to take care of yourself. Right, Tsukushi?”

Tsukushi nodded enthusiastically. Kazama felt worse and worse.

“Hey now,” he tried again, “I’m not  _that_  sick... I can still take care of myself.”

Mother and son simultaneously shook their heads.

“I’m serious,” he said, briefly interrupted by several coughs and three or four failed attempts at clearing his throat. Damn, it really did feel scratchy. “If I stay here I’ll just get you guys sick or something. I don’t wanna cause any trouble, so–”

“You’re not causing any trouble!” Tsukushi burst out immediately. “We’re happy to help, Kazama-kun!”

Kazama shifted awkwardly. He wanted to protest, but he didn’t know how. Telling them the truth was not an option. What should he say, that he had planned to spoil Tsukushi this weekend and didn’t want to end up being the spoiled one instead? Probably better not to.

“Exactly. You’re part of the family by now,” Nozomi added with a smile. “And this is what family’s for, right?”

_Family, huh._

The word felt warm. Not uncomfortably warm like Kazama’s fever. More like a soft, soothing gentle glow from the inside.

He loved these people. He loved them so much. He adored them.

“Okay then,” he said, closing his eyes where he stood. “Thanks a lot, you two.”

“Of course!” Tsukushi and Nozomi said in unison. Kazama resisted the urge to ignore all risks of contagion and pull them both into a group hug.

His legs wobbled a little, and he stumbled and opened his eyes. Tsukushi had caught him, thankfully. But standing up like this was getting really exhausting.

“Well,” Nozomi said with a huff. “Now that we’ve settled this, you better lie down, Kazama-kun! And don’t you get up till it’s time for dinner, got it?”

Kazama didn’t have it in him to protest.


	8. Saturday Night Disturbances

Hoshina had just made himself comfortable with a good book when his phone started ringing.

He half considered ignoring the call, too comfortable with his book and blanket to stand up and walk across the room to where his phone lay charging, but of course he didn’t listen to that impulse. After all, the call might be important; it might be an emergency, or otherwise something he would regret not taking, like a call from Ubukata. He didn’t know why he had just thought of Ubukata of all people. Maybe because they hadn’t talked to each other much since their trip to the bookstore, and he missed her a little.

Either way he couldn’t just sit here and let it ring. At the very least he had to check who the call was from.

So he sighed, put down his book, peeled off the blanket, and got off the couch to pad across the room to pick up his phone.

Of course the call was not from Ubukata, he thought with some disappointment he couldn’t explain. It wasn’t from anyone else he had saved in his contacts either. It was a completely unknown number.

What was this sudden feeling of déjà vu?

Probably someone with the wrong number, Hoshina told himself, but he still picked up. It was the polite thing to do. Besides, if the person didn’t know they had the wrong number, they might try to call him again later.

So he pressed the answer button and held the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

“Hey,” said a voice he vaguely remembered hearing before, even if he couldn’t currently put a name on it. “Is this Touin’s Hoshina?”

Hoshina furrowed his brow, the sense of déjà vu suddenly growing stronger. “That’s right,” he said warily. “Who is this?”

“Ooshiba.”

Abruptly Hoshina remembered where he had heard this voice before. “Seiseki’s center forward?”

“Yup.”

Hoshina’s frown deepened. At this point the situation was almost eerily familiar. “How did you get my number?” he asked, already guessing the answer as he spoke.

Ooshiba confirmed his suspicions barely a second later. “I got it from Kazama.”

“I see.”

Honestly, at this point he should really have a talk with people about giving his phone number away to virtual strangers.

Of course none of that was Ooshiba’s fault, he reminded himself, and he was just about to ask what he could possibly want from him on a February Saturday night (phrased more politely, of course) when Ooshiba beat him to the punch. “He told me to call you,” he said, “’cause you said you’d help us with our crushes, or some shit. And I want advice.”

Hoshina nodded slowly; he did remember offering his help, but now that it came down to it, he wasn’t sure if he truly could. Still, he wanted to try. “What would you like to know?”

“So there’s this g– uh– this person I like.” Ooshiba somehow managed to sound blunt and embarrassed at the same time. “And we kinda fight all the time and shit. But I like them anyway ‘cause uh... ‘cause reasons.”

There was a short pause, and Hoshina wondered if he should laugh or feel sorry for his awkwardness. “So today I tried to buy them lunch, but it went wrong ‘cause I had no coins and he– they got grumpy and walked off before I could get any, that asshole.” Ooshiba gave a huff. “And then they said that if I wanna do them a favor, I should just go to his family’s store and buy shit from there.” Ooshiba paused again, apparently unaware that he had resorted to the correct pronouns. “So he basically asked me to go to his place, right?”

Hoshina blinked awkwardly, not sure how to reply. “Well...”

“Right?” Ooshiba’s voice was now positively sparkling with excitement. “D’you think he likes me?”

What in the world was Hoshina supposed to tactfully reply to that?

“I’m not sure,” he said at last. “I don’t know the person as well as you do.”

“Yeah, but do you think I got a chance?”

“That’s...”

In all honesty, from the description alone, Hoshina very much doubted that the person in question liked him at all, let alone romantically. Why should two people who were in love keep fighting all the time? Wasn’t love about harmony and understanding each other?

Then again, Ooshiba had insulted the person in question repeatedly during his explanations, and he did seem in love, in a strange and stupid way. And since people tended to be attracted to those who were similar to them, there was always the off chance that the object of his affections was equally abrasive and stupid.

“I wouldn’t rule it out entirely,” Hoshina said honestly. “But I think you still have a long way to go.”

He could almost hear the smug grin from the other end of the line. “Heh.”

Part of Hoshina couldn’t help wondering if the second sentence had made it through at all.

“So,” Ooshiba went on, still in the same smug tone, “it’s gonna help if I drop by his place and bring a nice snack or something, right?”

Hoshina shrugged, increasingly at a loss. “If it’s the kind of thing he likes–”

“How do you– I mean–” Ooshiba’s tone changed abruptly, half flustered, half furious and accusing. “What makes you think it’s a he?”

Hoshina blinked at the phone, not understanding the question. “It’s what you’ve been saying... isn’t it?”

There was a moment’s pause, then Ooshiba replied in a suspiciously clipped voice. “Nope.”

“You did,” Hoshina replied. “Repeatedly.”

“You heard it wrong!”

“I’m sorry if I did.” There was not a trace of sarcasm of malice in Hoshina’s tone; he was genuinely puzzled. “It sounded very clear to me, but of course I may have misheard.”

“You did!”

“Alright then.” Hoshina didn’t quite believe it—Ooshiba’s denial was a little too fervent—but there was no use arguing. “So, if it’s the kind of thing they like—although I really don’t mind if it’s a he, don’t worry—I don’t see why not–”

“It’s not a he,” Ooshiba insisted.

“ _They_ , then,” Hoshina continued, now perfectly convinced that it was indeed a guy. Why else would Ooshiba be so stubborn about speaking of the object of his affections in a gender-neutral way when he had slipped up repeatedly? “If they like being visited and getting food as a gift, I don’t see why you shouldn’t try it.”

“They love it!” Suddenly Ooshiba’s voice was downright excited. “He always gets all blushy and sparkly when you give him good food! And his face really lights up and shit.” He laughed to himself, a sound located somewhere between affection, amusement and pride in his own taste. “It’s cute.”

Hoshina smiled. So far he had had some doubts about Ooshiba’s feelings, but now he could tell that he truly liked this person. Only someone with a huge crush could speak of the object of their affections in this uncharacteristically affectionate way.

“Then it’s a good idea,” he said. “But don’t go overboard with the gesture. Try to act natural.”

Ooshiba sounded confused. “Natural?”

“Don’t put on an act. It scares people away,” Hoshina said as images of Kaidou’s various failed attempts at flirting flashed through his mind. “Besides, you want that person to love you for who you are, don’t you?”

For a brief moment he wondered what that meant for him. Did he have anyone he wanted to accept him for his entire self, flaws and weaknesses and all the sides he rarely show to people? Did he have anyone he wanted to like him for who he was?

“But,” Ooshiba replied, “what if that person finds the real me annoying?”

“Then–”

Hoshina stopped short.  _Then you two simply aren’t meant to be together, and you can accept it and move on,_ he had wanted to say. But now something else crossed his mind, a thought he hadn’t considered before. It wasn’t that Ooshiba necessarily wanted to pretend to be someone else to be liked. He had only said this because he wanted to show himself from his best side to impress his crush, and he was afraid that being himself meant he had to settle for less than that.

Wanting to show oneself from one’s best side. Wanting to impress the chosen person. Worrying about coming across as unpleasant or annoying or inconsiderate or in any way less than ideal.

He almost felt like he could relate a little.

“You can be yourself,” he said, “and still show yourself from your best side. I’m only warning you against acting like someone you’re not.”

“Hm.”

There was a long pause, then Ooshiba spoke up again, sounding almost frighteningly cheerful. “Okay!” he chimed. “I think I know what I’m gonna do. Thanks, Hoshina-san! You’re officially the second-coolest playmaker I know.”

Hoshina blinked. “Second-coolest?”

“Our Kimishita is better than you.”

“I... I see.” Hoshina didn’t know if he should feel amused or offended. “Thank you... I guess.”

They said their goodbyes and ended the call, and Hoshina placed his phone back down to return to his book and blankets. Yet now, after the conversation, he found he couldn’t focus as well anymore. Two thoughts in particular kept haunting his mind, sneaking up on him whenever he tried to focus on his book.

One was the nagging suspicion that the object of Ooshiba’s affections was Seiseki’s playmaker, Kimishita.

The other was the intertwining connection of his and Ooshiba’s similar emotions and the image of Ubukata’s face.

\---

Kazama woke up in the dead of night, his body and clothes clammy with sweat. The room was dark around him, the moon in the window faint behind the clouds and the half-closed curtains. He lay splayed out in a futon, a blanket draped loosely about him; beside him on the pillow lay a now-warm cooling pad. His fever had gone down, it seemed. He still didn’t feel great, but at least he was no longer burning up from the inside.

A soft mumble from behind caught his attention, and Kazama turned around to find his eyes resting on a familiar figure. Curled up beside him lay Tsukushi, fast asleep, his covers pulled up to his nose, his chubby cheek smushed against the pillow as his shoulders rose and fell with deep, steady breaths. Every so often he shifted and mumbled something into his futon, but not once did he turn around, continuing to face towards Kazama even in the realm of dreams.

“You dummy,” Kazama muttered as he smiled, watching the sleeping form of his best friend, comforting and familiar. “You shouldn’t sleep so close to me. You’re gonna catch my cold.”

Tsukushi didn’t stir, and Kazama clutched his blanket in his arms. Every part of him wanted to leave his futon and crawl under the covers with Tsukushi, snuggling up to him and burying his face in his hair until he fell asleep. Not that he could, of course. Even if he didn’t have a cold, he couldn’t take advantage of the situation like this, selfishly giving in to his feelings while Tsukushi couldn’t say no. No creeping into futons. No touching. And no pressing kisses on his fluffy head of dark hair, no matter how much he wanted to.

He was so beautiful, Kazama thought. Small and soft and warm, a seemingly plain appearance masking the love and kindness radiating from the depths of his heart, glowing brightly but gently, lighting up his surroundings wherever he went. There was no malice in him, no mischief, not a single mean bone in his body. Only caring and acceptance and an adoration that Kazama had never even thought he deserved.

Truth be told, he still wasn’t sure he deserved him. He wasn’t as sweet, as selfless. Compared to Tsukushi, he wasn’t a very good person. He had been self-centered for so long, and a large part of him wondered if he still was. He had been a player. He had broken hearts before, not yet understanding the damage he did. He could be stubborn and petty and prideful, eccentric, unreliable. And his good sides didn’t seem enough. What were they, anyway? His cheerfulness and outgoing nature? His popularity? His sense of humor? His good looks and skills at soccer? Compared to everything he saw in Tsukushi, they all seemed shallow and vapid.

He wasn’t like Tsukushi. Personality-wise, he could never hold a candle to him. He didn’t deserve him, and he didn’t even know what he could give someone like him. All he had to offer was that he loved him. Completely, dearly, unconditionally.

And, whispered part of his mind, wasn’t that enough?

Tsukushi, he thought, would say it was enough. That he liked Kazama for the way he was, and he shouldn’t worry about not being a good person. If he ever loved him back, if Kazama ever got the courage to confess his feelings... It seemed so unlikely. So unlikely that Kazama sometimes wondered if he should just settle for being friends.

His hand extended towards the sleeping head again, pausing and hovering in midair. He wouldn’t touch him, he reminded himself. Just lying here was enough. Lying here on this borrowed futon in Tsukushi’s small room, gazing fondly at the small sleeping sun dreaming peacefully only an arm’s reach away.

Tsukushi shifted under the covers, giggling softly in his sleep and muttering something half-intelligible. Kazama thought he caught his name. A smile crossed his face. So Tsukushi dreamed of him too, sometimes. Just like he so often dreamed of him.

“Tsukushi,” he whispered, resting his hand on the floor between them. The name fell softly into the quiet room. Tsukushi did not stir, but behind the covers he looked like he was smiling in his sleep.

“Hey,” Kazama tried again, even softer this time. “You’re dreaming something nice, right?”

Tsukushi mumbled something again, but Kazama didn’t catch it.

“I hope you are.” Kazama closed his eyes. “You deserve it.”

This time no answer came, and Kazama’s hand slid tentatively across the floor, feeling for the edge of Tsukushi’s futon.  _Light of my life,_  he thought as he opened his eyes again.  _I love you so much._

He tried, but he couldn’t bring himself to utter these words out loud, not even in a whisper to a silent room when Tsukushi was fast asleep. It was like an invisible barrier kept him from saying them, tying his tongue until the time was right. The moment he spoke, he knew he would cross a line and come to stand at a point of no return.

_No good. If I keep staring at him, I’m never gonna sleep._

With a great effort Kazama retracted his hand and turned around in his futon, facing away from Tsukushi. Only the steady breaths and occasional mumbles still told him of his best friend’s presence as he forced his gaze to stay locked on the small table.

No good. He still couldn’t sleep. His clothes and sheets were still clammy. Had he even changed into his pajamas yesterday evening? When had he dozed off, exactly? His memory evaded him. Had he eaten dinner? What had been for dinner again?

Oh right... chicken noodle soup, Nozomi’s special recipe. According to her and Tsukushi there was nothing better to get rid of a cold. He only vaguely remembered the taste, except that it had felt comforting and very much like home.

And then...?

Kazama looked down at himself. He was still wearing the T-shirt and track pants he had changed into after arriving here. Apparently he had been too sleepy or too feverish to change again last night. He should probably do that now. Where on earth had he put his bag again?

Careful not to wake Tsukushi, he peeled himself out of the covers, quietly sneaking across the room to rummage through his bag. It was hard to tell where what lay in the dark, but he refused to even use the light of his phone screen, let alone turn on the lights for real. His hair kept falling into his face. At the back of his neck it felt humid and sticky.

Maybe, he thought, it was best to take a shower first.

Pulling out his pajamas and towel at last, he padded out of the room, careful to open and close the door without making a noise. Thankfully he remembered by now where the bathroom lay, or otherwise he would have had to worry about accidentally entering Nozomi’s room and waking her up.

It was relieving to slip out of his sweat-clammy clothes, stepping into the shower and letting water trickle over his skin, washing off the discomfort. For a long moment Kazama did nothing except close his eyes and focus on the feeling, but soon his thoughts began to roam and wander back to the bedroom he had left.

He wondered if he would be allowed to stay here after the morning. He seemed to be doing better now, no longer too sick to make the way home in safety. And even if Nozomi and Tsukushi insisted, he felt bad sticking around here and causing trouble when it was no longer necessary. His plans to make this weekend romantic had alreay been foiled anyway; what other reason did he have to stay, except the constant desire to spend as much time with Tsukushi as possible?

No, no; he should definitely go. It was already too likely that he would end up getting one or both of them sick with how long he had stayed, and there was no need to tempt fate any further. He could always text and call Tsukushi like he always did, and then on Monday they would meet again at school anyway. It was frustrating, but it was better that way. And their romantic weekend was something he could always attempt again some other time.

With a heavy sigh Kazama turned off the shower, stepping out and wrapping himself in the fluffiness of his towel as he rubbed himself dry. He couldn’t use the hairdryer in the middle of the night, of course; it would wake people up, but if he just rubbed his hair long enough and then wrapped his towel around his head for some time things should be fine. He just shouldn’t go to sleep with his hair wet. So that probably meant staying up a little longer before he could finally return to Tsukushi’s room and the futon next to his best friend.

Well, he thought as he slipped on his pajamas, at least he could use that time to sneak to the fridge and get a drink; he was parched. Admittedly drinking something cold was probably not the smartest idea, but it wasn’t like there was any warm tea in the house or anything. And he would not bother with making himself a cup in the middle of the night.

So he stretched, finished wrapping the towel around his head, and shuffled to the kitchen. He opened the fridge door and peered in. There was a bottle of water, along with two cartons of milk and a half-empty bottle of orange juice. He reached for the juice just as a voice behind him startled him out of his thoughts.

“Kazama-kun?”

Kazama almost dropped the bottle. Spinning around, he found Nozomi blinking at him in the kitchen door, rubbing her eyes and yawning.

“Ah... good morning, Nozomi-san,” he said, somehow feeling like he had been caught doing something forbidden. “Why uh... why’re you awake?”

She raked a hand through her sleep-tangled hair and moved across the room, surprisingly quietly for someone in a wheelchair. “The same reason as you, apparently,” she said with a smile; “I wanted a drink. But should you be up yet?” Her expression turned to one of worry. “Are you doing better?”

Kazama was just about to say his fever was down when she reached up to touch his forehead, frowning. Then she gave a small sigh of relief. “Your fever is gone,” she said. “How are you feeling?”

He looked down along himself, but he wasn’t sure how to answer. “Better,” he said, “I guess.”

“Oh, thank goodness!”

Nozomi spoke these words with such energetic relief that Kazama couldn’t help laughing. “Don’t laugh at me, young man!” she went on. “You were looking awful earlier, I was so worried! And Tsukushi too, he insisted on sleeping next to you so he could be there if anything happened!”

So that was the reason why Tsukushi had been sleeping where he had?

Kazama’s heart stirred within him, soft and warm and full of gratitude and adoration.  _Love of my life,_  a voice whispered inside his head. He hushed it, dismissing it as unrealistic. But he couldn’t stop the look of utter adoration from spreading all over his face.

“Tsukushi...” he muttered, half to himself, half to Nozomi. “What was he thinking? He’s gonna get himself sick too.”

This time it was Nozomi who laughed. “I tried to tell him,” she said, “but I knew it was no use. He’s as stubborn as I am.”

“And way too selfless.”

Nozomi fell silent, her eyes wandering to the window, reflecting the street lights outside. A car passed by in the street below. The wind carried over snippets of voices from a few blocks away.

“He is just like his father,” she said at last, a strange wistfulness lingering on her round, friendly face, making her seem old and wise far beyond the youthfulness of her features. “To him his friends are the most important thing in the world.”

Kazama looked at his hands.  _The most important thing in the world._

“That’s why I’m so glad you’re his best friend, Kazama-kun,” Nozomi added suddenly, and the strange mood passed. “You wouldn’t hurt him or take advantage of his kindness. I’ve never seen him happier than since he met you!”

Somehow Kazama couldn’t quite believe that. He hoped it was true, and some part of him knew that Nozomi wouldn’t say such a thing if she meant it. And yet the words felt too big for him, a compliment he didn’t deserve. Could he truly not hurt Tsukushi? Did he never take advantage of his kindness? Would Nozomi still have told him all these things if she knew how he truly felt?

But he concealed these feelings, and instead he laughed. “That’s nice to hear,” he said cheerfully. “’Cause I’ve never been happier than since I met Tsukushi too.”

Nozomi smiled, and once again he felt like her smile held something knowing.

“Okay!” she said at last, and the strange smile disappeared. “We both came here for a drink! Now don’t you think about drinking something out of the fridge and making your cold worse. I’m making us both tea!”

“Ah– uh–” Kazama grinned sheepishly, uncomfortable with causing her trouble again. “It’s okay–”

Her sudden death glare stopped him mid-sentence.

“I mean, uh–” With an awkward laugh he backed away from this tiny woman and her furious stare. “I could... help?”

Nozomi’s glare intensified.

“O-Okay.” He slowly backed away and sat down at the kitchen table. “Thank you.”

Immediately her face lit up, and she hummed as she moved back and forth around the kitchen and got the hot water boiling. “Here, drink up,” she finally said when she set a steaming cup down in front of Kazama. “And after that you go straight back to bed, got it? You need your sleep!”

Kazama still hadn’t asked her if he should stay tomorrow, he realized, but he put off that question for later. “Yes, ma’am.”


	9. A Captain's Care

_Why are we even open?_

Kimishita yawned, pushing aside the book he had been reading and reaching for his cup of coffee. The third this morning, and almost enough to turn him into a sociable person. If he could afford some two or three more, he would. Then again, knowing how used he was to three, that much caffeine would probably make him vibrate and bounce off the walls.

For now, though, he was stuck here unsociable but tragically awake, watching the empty store, knowing full well nobody would possibly come in before twelve o’clock on a Sunday morning.

As if on cue, the door swished open, and Kimishita sat straight. He was not yet ready for human interaction, but what choice did he have? Customers were scarce and couldn’t be scared off by his failure to put on his awkward customer service smile.

“Welcome,” he said in a tone he hated as much as he could switch into it at any given time of the day or the night. His normal brain turned off, and his customer service brain took over. A useful skill, if only it didn’t come at the price of turning dead inside.

Right now, however, he very quickly switched back into normal mode when he saw just who it was that had walked in through the door.

The good news was that he wouldn’t have to worry about this particular customer off. The bad news... was everything else.

“‘Sup,” said a familiar voice, and standing in the door was none other than Ooshiba Kiichi, Ooshiba  _freaking_  Kiichi barging into his weekend on a peaceful Sunday morning.

Before he had finished his third cup of coffee.

What in the world had he done to deserve this?

“Kiichi,” he forced out, hoping his eye didn’t twitch too obviously. “Since when do you wake up before noon on a Sunday morning?”

Kiichi grinned smugly, the obvious mockery flying straight over his head. “Captains gotta get up early and get shit done,” he said. “Aren’t I amazing?”

“Extremely,” Kimishita grumbled, sipping at his coffee. “Go be amazing somewhere else.”

Kiichi’s smug grin disappeared in favor of a familiar scowl. Then a thought seemed to cross him, and for a moment his face was distorted in a grimace as the scowl and the grin wrestled for his expression.

“Nope,” he said at last, annoyingly cheerful once more. “I wanted to come here.”

Kimishita stifled a groan. After the utter nonsense that had been the past few days, he couldn’t shake the feeling that Kiichi was once again up to something exceptionally stupid.

“Why here?” he asked out loud. “You need equipment or something.”

Kiichi thought for a moment, then he shook his head. “Nope.”

Kimishita sighed. “What then? Advice?”

“Nope.”

“Then  _what the fuck do you want?_ ”

“Nothing.” Kiichi crossed his arms. “I just came here ‘cause I wanted to.”

Kimishita stared. He was quickly beginning to feel like three cups of coffee weren’t nearly enough to deal with this.

What was Kiichi doing here? Why on earth was he even up when he was supposed to still lie snoring in bed and whine if anyone so much as thought of waking him up? And what in the world did he mean, he wanted to be here? Was this about to be another forced niceness campaign? Kimishita hoped not. It was too early in the day for a stress headache.

What was with Kiichi and trying to be nice to him lately, anyway? Had somebody planted a stupid idea in his head? Had someone told him captains and their vice-captains always had to be best friends or something?

“You came here because you wanted to?” he asked out loud, giving a suspicious scowl. “Are you so rich you want to visit a run-down store just for shits and giggles?”

“Here.”

Kiichi’s hand abruptly shoved something in Kimishita’s face. Kimishita backed away but took it, squinting at it in surprise. It was a pack of sweet bread, apparently filled with strawberry cream.

Against his will his stomach growled. He hadn’t had much for breakfast this morning, just the one last egg in the fridge. And he did like sweet things. And strawberries.

But that didn’t mean he was any less confused.

“What’s that?” he asked, turning the bread in his hands as if searching for a trap. “This a joke or something?”

“I just saw it.” Kiichi crossed his arms, averting his gaze, pouting and suddenly looking extremely awkward. “At the store. And you like strawberries. So, uh...” He raked a hand through his hair. “You can have it.”

Kimishita looked at his face, then at the bread, then back at Kiichi. For some reason his embarrassment relaxed him. It was definitely more comforting than the smug pompousness from the past few days.

In fact, Kiichi’s embarrassment relaxed him so much that Kimishita couldn’t help but tease him even more. “What’s that?” he asked, smirking. “Ooshiba Kiichi thinking of others? Has being captain made you turn nice?”

As predicted, Kiichi went pink, and Kimishita’s smirk widened as he prepared himself for the spluttering protest. “Shut up!” Kiichi burst out. “I do nice shit all the time, asshole!”

“To who? Yourself?”

“Everybody!” Kiichi made a face at him. “Just not you ‘cause you’re an ungrateful piece of shit!”

“So not everybody.”

“Everybody except you!”

“Well, it’s not like I need your help in the first place!” Kimishita shot back, allowing himself to sound annoyed even though he was still enjoying the situation. “But that still doesn’t explain why you magically changed your mind and started being nice to me too!”

“‘Cause–”

Kiichi started off strongly, then he trailed off, his face now almost as red as his hair. “’Cause... why not,” he grumbled weakly. “I thought maybe you’re gonna be less of an asshole if I start being nice to you.”

It sounded like an obvious excuse, but Kimishita didn’t have the faintest idea what the truth behind it was.

“So that’s why you came and brought me this?” he prodded on, gesturing at the bread. “To buy friend points?”

“No! I just–” Kiichi blushed again, then he crossed his arms and gave a huff. “Stop bitching and eat the fucking bread! I bet you haven’t had enough breakfast again today.”

Kimishita’s jaw dropped. “Wha–”

“You never do,” Kiichi said. “It’s not good for you. And a captain’s gotta look after his vice-captain.”

This time it was Kimishita’s turn to blush.

_Look after me._  That was surprisingly sweet, especially coming from someone like Kiichi. Not that he felt like he needed it, but... it was so unexpected. And yet completely like him, now that he thought about it. Kiichi might be bratty and stupid and self-centered, but he did care. He had had Kimishita’s back often enough for him to know that better than anyone.

“You don’t have to look after me,” he said, but there was no hostility in his voice anymore. “I can watch out for myself.”

“You gotta take a break sometimes.”

“That’s–”

Kimishita blinked stupidly, but he couldn’t think of anything clever to respond. Truth be told, he couldn’t think of any reply at all. Some small, stupidly persistent part of him was so happy it obstructed the prouder side of his brain.

“Fine.”

Still blushing, Kimishita unwrapped the bread and took a bite, closing his eyes and chewing. The sweet, creamy taste of the strawberry filling spread all throughout his mouth, and he relaxed. Maybe Kiichi had been right, and he hadn’t had enough breakfast all along, or maybe he was just happy about the favor, but one way or another he suddenly didn’t feel annoyed by his new company at all.

Kiichi looked at him closely as he continued to chew, his expression friendly and intense in a way that was difficult to read, but Kimishita thought he caught triumph in it. “You like it?”

“It’s sweet, and it has strawberries,” Kimishita replied between two bites. “What’s not to like?”

Kiichi smiled. Not smugly, the way he usually did when he was praised. There was no arrogance in his expression. He just smiled.

Kimishita didn’t understand why this smile appeared on his face sometimes; it seemed to be random, triggered by nothing. All he knew was that he liked this look. It was so quiet, unlike so many of Kiichi’s expressions that were already loud to look upon.

Their gazes met, and Kiichi blinked owlishly. His smile faltered as his eyes grew to the size of pancakes.

“What?” Kimishita asked abruptly.

Kiichi stared at him like he had grown a second head. “You’re smiling.”

Kimishita’s face heated up anew as his hand darted up to cover his mouth. Kiichi had been right; he really was smiling slightly, and he hadn’t even noticed.

“Who cares,” he snapped, not daring to remove his hand. “You started smiling first. It’s contagious.”

Kiichi blinked, then suddenly he was all up in his face, expression smug but eyes sparkling. “So you think my smile’s contagious?”

“It’s creepy!” Kimishita shot back. “Get out of my face!”

Kiichi looked like he wanted to shout something back, then he blinked, stared, and abruptly jumped backwards as his face flushed the shade of a ripe tomato.

Coughing and clearing his throat, he paced around the shop, staring at various items that he shouldn’t be interested in at all—at least Kimishita didn’t have the faintest clue what he could want with a girls’ hockey jersey and kneepads three sizes too small for him. Kimishita followed him with his eyes, his confusion increasing by the minute. If he didn’t know better, he would say Kiichi looked embarrassed. No, not embarrassed;  _flustered_  might be nearer the mark.

But why should he be flustered? Just because he had accidentally ended up too close to Kimishita’s face? Since when did that bother him when it happened all the time when they fought?

After a long moment of silence Kiichi finally spoke again, staring intensely at the displays. “These shelves are old as shit.”

Kimishita’s eye twitched. He was well aware of that, but what should he do? Not that Kiichi could possibly understand how much they had to save up to replace even one of these shelves.

“No kidding, genius,” he said irritably. “In case you forgot, new shelves cost money!”

Kiichi ignored his comment. “The ceiling fan’s old too,” he said. “And you gotta paint your walls. They’re ugly as fuck.”

Kimishita jumped up. “Listen–”

“And outside too,” Kiichi went on. “Everything’s old and broken. No wonder nobody comes to your shabby-ass store–  _ow!_ ” He spun around, holding the eraser Kimishita had thrown at his head with frightening precision. “What the fuck was that for?”

“Shut your stupid mouth already!” Kimishita shouted at him. “You think I don’t already know all the bullshit you’re spouting? The problem is with money, idiot!  _Money!_  It doesn’t grow on trees!”

“If we bring together some people, I bet it’s gonna be easy to glow this place up.”

Kimishita’s anger evaporated in favor of blank-faced confusion. “Ah?”

“Like, it’s not bad.” Kiichi picked up a pair of basketball shoes and put it back down. “It just looks shabby. If we get some guys together and make this place shine, I bet you’re gonna have more people coming here.”

Kimishita’s mouth hung open. Had he heard that right? Was Kiichi saying nice things about his family’s run-down little shop? No, more than that... was he offering to  _help_?

What was today, Opposite Day? Had Kiichi been hit over the head, or was this a well-thought-out prank?

“Hey,” he said, “knock it off.”

Kiichi turned around from where he had been inspecting the walls. “Hm?”

“I said, knock it off,” Kimishita said again, growing irritated once more. “It’s fine as it is, so stop acting like–”

“The walls need a different color,” Kiichi muttered to himself, paying no attention to him. “Maybe white would be good. Or dark gray, like that one place– nope. Too dark. You’re gloomy enough already.”

Kimishita clicked his tongue. “Hey!”

“And maybe brighter lamps or something. Then turn the shelves around like this...” Kiichi paced along the side wall, too deep in thought to pay him any heed. “Maybe make the shelves dark. That would look cool. And then the floor like...”

“ _Ooshiba Kiichi, are you fucking listening?_ ”

Kiichi stopped in his tracks, gaping like one snapped out of a deep train of thought. “What?”

“Your ideas may sound nice in theory,” Kimishita said, abandoning his desk to march over to him, “but they’re way beyond our budget! Even with whatever help you can bring together, we can barely afford a tenth of the bullshit you’re thinking up!”

Kiichi furrowed his brow, turning back and forth in confusion. “It’s not that expensive.”

“Not to you rich kid, maybe! We’re  _poor!_ ” Kimishita gestured around the shop. “Do you really think this place would look like this if we weren’t dirt-broke?”

“Hm.”

“Don’t ‘Hm’ me! You’re the one who always makes fun of how poor I am!”

“Hm,” Kiichi said again, more drawn out this time. Kimishita was ready to yell at him again when he stopped in his tracks. Something about Kiichi’s expression told him he was actually thinking properly for once.

“So the problem,” Kiichi said at last, “is that you guys can’t pay for all the stuff you need to make this place look good, right?”

Kimishita furrowed his brow, unsure what to respond. “That’s... part of it,” he said at last, wondering what Kiichi was getting at. “The other part is that we can’t do all the work on our own. We’d need to hire someone, and that costs money too.”

“Why not ask some friends to help?”

Kimishita’s jaw dropped. “Wha–?”

“You got friends in the neighborhood, right?” Kiichi nodded towards the door. “And maybe the team can help too. And a couple guys I know. Then all we’d need is the paint and stuff.”

“Hey–”

Kiichi looked at him, actually seeming to pay attention to him again at last. “What?”

“Don’t go making plans,” Kimishita said, crossing his arms. “What’s wrong with this place as it is, huh? If you don’t like it, then don’t come here!”

“That’s not it!” Kiichi gave a frustrated huff. “I just thought if this place looked nicer, then more customers would show up and you guys–”

“So you’re feeling sorry for us! Is that it?”

“ _No!_ ”

Kimishita clicked his tongue. “Then what?”

Kiichi fell silent, but his expression told Kimishita that it wasn’t for lack of an answer.

“It’s just...” He trailed off.

“Just what? If you have a reason, then say it!”

“Just... I hear you complain about how not enough people come here all the time.” Kiichi wasn’t looking at him as he spoke. “And you’re always trying to get people to shop here. And you still talk about needing new shit for the store that you can’t afford and...” He raked a hand through his hair. “You love this place, right? And you can’t make it better alone.”

Kimishita stood speechless, so baffled he couldn’t even bring himself to get angry.

Something stirred inside him, though he didn’t know how to describe the emotion. Surprise, probably; and amusement, amusement at how unlike Kiichi this was. Well, not really unlike. Kimishita had spent enough time around Kiichi to know about his caring side, the way he looked out for people who mattered to him for no reason other than that he wanted them to be happy. However, it was very much unlike him to voice these thoughts out loud.

Maybe that surprise was the reason why Kimishita didn’t get annoyed like he usually did when someone tried to meddle in his business and decide if he needed help over his head. Or maybe it was that, for once, Kiichi sounded genuine. Not like he expected praise or thanks in return. Just offering to help because he wanted to see things get better.

One way or another, surprise wasn’t all he felt. Neither was amusement. If he had to pick a word, the sensation felt... warm.

_Embarrassing_.

Covering up his mushy thoughts, Kimishita crossed his arms, looking up at Kiichi with a teasing smirk. “What’s that?” he asked. “Does the great Ooshiba Kiichi admit he worries about other people?”

Kiichi flushed a most rewarding shade of red, and Kimishita had to bite his lip to stop himself from laughing. It was probably mean to tease him like that, but in situations like this he just couldn’t help it. An already flustered Kiichi was simply too fun to tease.

Besides, he thought, it allowed Kimishita an easy way out of a situation that could otherwise have turned emotional. He didn’t like emotional situations. He never knew what to do.

“Shut up,” Kiichi grumbled, too embarrassed to get angry and spout nonsense about how he did care about people like he normally would. “I’m the captain now! It’s my job to look out for my team! And you’re already working way too much, so shut up!”

Under normal circumstances Kimishita would have snapped at him that he was working a perfectly normal amount and Kiichi should mind his own business, but right now he couldn’t help but fight off the irrational urge to ruffle his hair.

He had to admit, this version of Kiichi was quite... likable, after all. Not quite  _endearing_ , that was too strong a word; but likable enough to be Kimishita’s favorite. Stupid, caring Kiichi was someone he wouldn’t mind calling his friend.

“Helping your vice-captain with his family business isn’t part of your job description,” he said, more amused than annoyed for the moment. “Focus on the pitch. There’s not enough room for more in your soccer ball of a head.”

“But I wanna!”

“Shut up. We have a team to build.”

“But the team’s doing fine! I got time to do shit for you right now!”

“I’m telling you, there’s no rush!”

“Why not?”

“Because this place has looked this way for ages, it’s not like–”

“The sooner you start, the better! That’s what you keep telling me, asshole!”

“I was talking about homework and studying for exams! Don’t turn my words against me, moron!”

Kiichi pouted. “But it sounds fun.”

“What, getting the whole place trampled by a bunch of random idiots you brought here?” Kimishita scoffed. “Not for me.”

“I told ya, we can get the team.”

Kimishita clicked his tongue. “I’m not that selfish!”

“It’s gonna be a team-building exercise!”

“It’ll be a disaster, that’s what! I’m not babysitting three dozen idiots running around my place and messing things up!”

“We don’t gotta bring everyone!”

“Then it’s not a  _team_ -building exercise! Use your stupid brain!”

“Just the regulars!”

“That’s bad enough! Do you know how stupid our regulars are?”

“I’m gonna watch them too.”

Kimishita sighed. “You’re serious about this, aren’t you?”

“Sure am.” Kiichi nodded enthusiastically. “We don’t gotta do much. Just the stuff that you say needs fixing. You don’t like random people doing random shit around this place, right?”

Kimishita stood dumbfounded. Since when did Kiichi have the brain capacity to realize that  _and_  be considerate about it?

“Fine,” he said, still feeling startled and baffled, but steadily warming up to the entire ridiculous concept. “I’ll think about it. Happy now?”

He still wasn’t sure about it all, not by a long way. But Kiichi seemed serious enough to give the thought a chance.

In any case he should probably talk to his father about it.

\---

Ooshiba walked back home humming and whistling, cheerfully detailing his newfound plan in his head. The store definitely needed a new sign, he thought, one that was actually legible, and definitely some lamps to illuminate it so people would see it at night. The whole entrance needed a glow-up too, and the displays outside. Nobody in their right mind would walk into such a run-down place. And he was still adamant about the wall paint. Those walls definitely hadn’t been painted in some twenty years and it showed. And then...

Wait a minute.

Ooshiba stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. What was he thinking about? He hadn’t woken up this early and come all the way to Kimishita’s place to talk about renovating the shop!

And he had  _only_  talked about that. Sure, he had given him that sweet bread, but that alone couldn’t nearly qualify as flirting, could it? He had come there to woo Kimishita, and all he had talked about was his spontaneous idea to make the shop look more inviting!

He had become completely sidetracked. And then he had left. And it wasn’t like he could go back now and try the whole flirting thing again, right?

Dammit. He had missed his chance completely.

But at least, he thought, he had now created a lot of excuses to spend time with Kimishita. And in that time he could charm him all he wanted. So in the end he hadn’t messed up that much.

Right?


	10. Small Steps Forward

Kazama woke up with the sun on his face, and for a moment he couldn’t remember where he was or what had happened, except for the lingering notion that he had very much overslept.

Rolling over in his futon, he reached for his phone where it usually lay, only to find that it wasn’t where it should be. He lifted his head. Only then did he remember where he was and what had happened last night.

Wait, what the hell time was it? He had meant to be gone in the morning!

A shadow fell over him, and Kazama sat up, nearly colliding with a tray in the process. “Whoa– Good morning, Kazama-kun!” Tsukushi greeted him, placing the tray on the table and leaning over him, placing a hand against his forehead. “Are you feeling better?”

“Uh... yeah, I think,” Kazama said, scratching the back of his head. “What time is i–”

“Oh, thank goodness!”

With a sigh of relief Tsukushi sat down next to him, looking so glad it almost made Kazama laugh. “Your fever’s gone down too,” he said. “I was so worried! It wouldn’t get better at all last night, and then I fell asleep, and... um... I’m so sorry! I’m so happy you’re okay!”

He seemed genuinely distressed, and Kazama’s heart stirred. How long had this guy stayed up by his side last night, taking care of him until sleep took him? How much had he tried and struggled, worrying more and more when all his efforts seemed fruitless? Too much, Kazama was sure. And yet he could tell from his expression that Tsukushi was still blaming himself for falling asleep in the end.

“So this is why I’m feeling so much better!” he said, affectionately ruffling his hair. “Thanks so much, Tsukushi! You’re the best nurse in the world!”

Tsukushi blushed and fidgeted, though he laughed. “No, um...” he said sheepishly. “My mom helped me... I couldn’t have done it on my own...”

“Then I had two angel nurses who helped me? That’s even better!” Kazama beamed. “Don’t put yourself down, man. I was kinda passed out the whole time, but I’m pretty sure you did amazing.”

“That’s–”

“–not an exaggeration, I know what you’re gonna say.” Tsukushi grinned as one caught, and Kazama laughed. “C’mon, don’t look at me like that! We’re best friends, of course I know what you’re thinking!”

_Well, most of the time,_  he added in his head.  _There’s some stuff I’m not so sure about. Like, I get that you like me a lot, but do you like me, as in best friends? Or do you ‘like me’ like me?_

Not something he could say out loud, obviously.

“I don’t always know what you’re thinking, Kazama-kun,” Tsukushi admitted. “But, um... I think I’ll get there!”

Kazama wasn’t sure if he should be relieved or frustrated that Tsukushi didn’t.

“You got this, man,” he said. “Hey, at least you’ve learned that I always think you’re welcome!”

Tsukushi smiled a little, but he looked away, his blue eyes reflecting the light of the sky outside the window. “Some part of me still wonders if that’s true,” he admitted. “But I trust you, Kazama-kun. So every time I think you might get tired of me after all, I tell myself to face my fears and reach out anyway.”

Kazama didn’t say anything. He only looked at him, listening with a soft, proud smile on his face.

“I used to keep losing friends because I couldn’t keep in touch,” Tsukushi went on, even quieter now. “I always met nice people, but I couldn’t bring myself to talk to them again, or contact them, or anything. So they found their own friends, and I started thinking I was just too boring to keep people around. The only one who ever stuck around was Sayuri-chan, but she’s not really a normal friend... she’s like a sister. Her mom is best friends with my mom, so, you know...”

Kazama extended his hand and withdrew it again. All these months of knowing each other, and Tsukushi had never told him this story, not in such a direct, straightforward way. His heart stirred. He wanted to hug him so badly, but now wasn’t the time. Now was the time to listen.

_I wish I’d known you in middle school. I wish I had met you and become your friend. Where were you when I needed somebody like you? Where was I when you needed someone like me?_

“I don’t want to be like that anymore.” Tsukushi turned back to Kazama, his face tense with determination. “I’m not drifting away because I’m too scared to talk to people. I’m never losing a friend ever again!”

Kazama burst out laughing. “Dude, you can’t avoid that completely!”

“W-Well, maybe not, but um...” Tsukushi blushed, pumping his fists in determination. “I can try!”

Kazama laughed again, ruffling his hair and flopping back on the futon. “I believe that,” he said. “And hey. Knowing you, you might actually do it.”

Tsukushi didn’t answer, but he didn’t need to. His futon was gone already, but he lay down on his back anyway, stretching out next to Kazama and staring at the ceiling with a smile, as if they were both lying on the grass after a match and looking up at the sky. The room felt warm. Kazama wanted to reach out and touch him, but he held back. He had already touched him too much for someone who was probably still contagious with a cold.

“Oh, Kazama-kun, did you wake up?”

Stirring out of his reverie, Kazama lifted his head to find Nozomi looking down at them from the door, and abruptly he realized how absurd they must have looked lying stretched out on the floor for no reason. And suddenly he also remembered that he had firmly decided to hurry home as soon as he got up.

“Good morning, Nozomi-san,” he said, hastily sitting up. “What, uh... What time is it?”

Nozomi glanced at her watch. “A few minutes past twelve,” she said. “Almost time for lunch! Are you hungry?”

Kazama really was, but he had caused enough trouble. “Ah, uh, don’t worry about me!” he said. “I’m just gonna–”

“–stay for lunch, of course, right?” Nozomi finished his sentence, and something about his tone told him she would suffer no backtalk. “We’d love to have you. And we still have some of the chicken soup from yesterday, it’ll help you get better even faster!”

Kazama shrank back a little. “Ah, but I’m fine...”

He immediately trailed off when he saw the look on Nozomi’s face.

“Young man,” she said, “you are not fine just because your fever’s gone! You can thank Tsukushi for that, by the way, gathering snow from outside to cool your forehead when nothing else helped.” Tsukushi went pink, and Nozomi smiled. “You need to eat, Kazama-kun. And take it slow until you’re truly feeling better.”

There was an awkward pause. Kazama wanted to argue back, but he wasn’t sure what to say without getting Nozomi into full almighty mom mode and ending up with the scolding of a lifetime. And really, it didn’t help that a large part of him wanted to give in and do as she said. He didn’t really want to go home just yet.

“But,” he ventured at last.

“But?” she repeated, her expression still stern but her eyes kind. “Is something bothering you, Kazama-kun?”

“Well...” He scratched his cheek. “The thing is... I don’t want you guys getting sick ‘cause you were too nice to send me home like...”

_Like normal people_ , he had wanted to say, but Nozomi’s expression made him trail off. She wouldn’t have any of that, he realized.

“I mean, c’mon!” he tried anyway. “You guys don’t deserve to get sick! What if you catch my cold and can’t go to work or something? Or if it hits Tsukushi and then... It’s just not worth that trouble, ya know?”

Nozomi’s expression softened. The stern look disappeared completely, and she crossed the distance between them, ruffling his hair as if he, too, was her son. “Kazama-kun, please!” she said. “Is that what you were worried about?”

Kazama suddenly felt a little stupid. “Well...”

“It’s okay, Kazama-kun!” Tsukushi burst out, looking fiercely determined again. “We’ll do our best not to get sick!”

“Precisely!" Nozomi said, laughing. “Besides, I work at a daycare, remember? Your one cold has nothing on all the germs these little kids carry around.” She flexed her small arms. “My immune system can handle it!”

Kazama gazed at her like he had seen an angel. 

“Besides,” Tsukushi added, “if we really do get sick, you can help us too! It’s fine, Kazama-kun!”

That was the last straw.

Kazama’s defenses melted away like butter in the sun. His heart was soft. Almost his impulse control failed him, making him pull these kind, wonderful, beautiful people into a hug despite all the risks.

_Really, what have I ever done to deserve you two?_

He opened his mouth and closed it again, but no suitable words came out. Then, without warning, a laugh welled out of his chest and burst out of him unhalted.

“I love you guys,” he said. “I swear, I love you two so much.”

\---

“So that’s what he suggested, huh?”

Kimishita’s father looked up from the omelette rice he had been stirring in the pan for lunch, almost not burning it anymore after endless years of practice. “I wouldn’t mind,” he said. “The shop could use a makeover for sure. I’ve been wanting to do one for ages, but, you know...”

“No money,” Kimishita finished his sentence.

His father gave a lopsided smile. “Precisely.”

Kimishita sighed, reaching past him to get two plates from the kitchen cupboard and setting them on the table. “We still don’t have the money now,” he said. “And Kiichi’s plans are...”

He trailed off.  _Pretty stupid,_  he had wanted to say, but that wasn’t entirely true. They were stupid a lot of the time, granted. But every so often, when he actually tried, they could be surprisingly thoughtful, strikes of genius among endless piles of nonsense. The issue was that Kimishita had no idea if he was trying right now. He could guess from the seriousness he had shown, but that alone was only so much of an indication.

“Hit or miss,” he said at last.

“Well, hopefully we’ll get to find out which it is before we spend any money,” his father replied, still stirring the rice. “Besides, if they miss a little... that’s what he has you for, right?”

Kimishita nearly dropped the chopsticks he had taken from the drawer. “Wha–?”

“That’s how you two work, right?” His father took the pan off the stove and began loading its contents onto the plates. “You’re the brains, and he’s the brawn.”

“Yeah, but–”

“Although sometimes the brains should learn to overthink a little less.” Setting down the pan, his father laughed and ruffled Kimishita’s hair, ignoring all protests. “I think it’s worth a try. I don’t really like asking people for help like this, but if your friend’s the driving force behind this, I have no problem getting the neighborhood on board!”

Kimishita hesitated. He didn’t know what he had expected. His father was always like this; a hopeless optimist, someone who always wanted to think the best of everyone and everything. Of course he would be on board with the idea. The one who still wasn’t sure about this entire thing was Kimishita himself.

Then again, he mused, by telling his father, hadn’t he secretly already made up his mind?

“I don’t know,” he muttered, sitting down and pushing his lunch back and forth with his chopsticks. “All these people in our shop...”

His father burst out laughing. “You’ll never become a good businessman with that attitude,” he said. “Shouldn’t you be happy the place gets so many visitors?”

“Visitors, not customers! I don’t have to be happy about a zillion people trying to change up this place and making a mess!”

“Atsushi, please! You sound just like your mother,” his father replied, still laughing as Kimishita blushed. “I’d be happy! Look at all these nice people coming here to help us!”

“They’re only coming because Kiichi dragged them here!”

“Then I’d still be happy you have a friend like Kiichi-kun.”

Kimishita shut his mouth. From one second to the other, his face flushed bright red.

_Friend_. Why did it feel so weird for his father to call Kiichi that? It should be normal. He and Kiichi were weird and messy and awkward and spent most of their time together bickering and volleying insults, but of course they were friends. There was no disputing that, not without denying everything that had accompanied their bond for almost the past five years.

Even though Kimishita himself was only just realizing that now. He had no idea what he had thought of Kiichi before. Maybe nothing at all. Kiichi was Kiichi, and that was the only accurate descriptor he had ever needed when thinking of him.

_My friend, huh._

“He’s an idiot,” Kimishita said, staring adamantly at his food. “Maybe he has good intentions, but there’s no promise that he won’t fuck up and do something incredibly stupid.”

His father said nothing. Kimishita could feel his gaze on him, that certain knowing smile he always wore when he understood something better than his son did.

“But,” he added at last, a small smile crossing his face, “you’re right. He’s stupid, but... I guess he’s a good guy after all.”

\---

“So what about the love letter, anyway?” Atomu asked when they all sat together in the afternoon, supposedly doing homework but really just getting distracted every five minutes.

Hoshina lifted his head; he had quite forgotten about that. “What of it?”

“Have you ever written it?” Ura chimed in. “Or are you still figuring out what to write?”

“Guys, please.” Kaidou made a dismissive gesture. “You’ve seen Taku, haven’t you? I told you, he’s years away from being ready to write a love letter.”

Atomu blinked owlishly. “That’s still so weird,” he said. “He’s so mature.”

“And more innocent than should be legal at his age,” Kaidou replied.

Hoshina looked from one to the other. “I’m sitting right here, you know.”

“We know, and we love you, Taku, but you’re an embarrassment.” Kaidou gave an exaggerated sigh and ruffled his hair, despite Hoshina’s protests. “Some people your age have half a dozen exes, and you...”

“Like you, Kai?”

“Hey– You leave  _my_  love life out of this!”

“But it’s true.” Hoshina furrowed his brow. “Besides, I don’t think I could be happy that way. I’d rather wait for the right person and then spent the rest of my life with them.”

He saw nothing wrong with his statement until the others blinked at him with suspiciously shiny eyes.

“What?” he asked, taken off guard.

Ura placed a hand on his shoulder, his expression filled with moved admiration. “That’s so romantic.”

“And adorable,” Kaidou added, sniffling and pretending to wipe away a tear.

“Nothing less from the captain of our hearts!” Atomu said, actually looking a little teary-eyed. “Such determination! Such dedication!”

“Yes, it’s beautiful,” Kaidou said. “Though you do know it’s unrealistic as hell, right?”

“But–”

“Look, when you enter in a relationship, you always want it to last. But the sad, painful truth is that most relationships... well, don’t.” Kaidou looked genuinely dejected for a moment. “And you can never know ahead of time.”

“I can try.”

“That doesn’t mean your partner will do the same! All your trying won’t protect you from getting dumped, cheated on, or stuck with someone who’s so different from the person you fell in love with you barely recognize them anymore!”

Ura blinked up at him. “Are you a divorced old man?”

“This is common sense, silly!” Kaidou laughed, patting his head. “Just you wait till you’re as grown-up as me, then you’ll understand it just fine!”

“Hey, I’m not that much younger!”

“Anyway, Taku,” Kaidou said, ignoring Ura completely. “My point is, you can’t go around waiting for your one true love forever, because that’s the safest way to end up sad and alone.”

Hoshina thought that over for a moment. “Hm.”

“So,” Atomu remarked into the ensuing silence, “what do you want him to do?”

Kaidou blinked; it was glaringly obvious that he hadn’t thought that far. “Well, uh,” he said, “be more realistic, for starters?”

“But I am realistic.” Hoshina furrowed his brow. “I know I can’t juggle soccer and a love life, so I’m not looking for anyone right now.”

“Listen–”

“Of course,” Hoshina mused, half to himself, “if I find love anyway, I won’t try to run from it.”

He thought of Ubukata again. If it was her, he pondered, she might not mind as much that he was busy with soccer. She loved the sport as much as he did, and if anyone knew how time-consuming it could be, it had to be her. If she was his girlfriend, he might not have to worry as much about his work-life balance.

Hypothetically, of course. It didn’t necessarily have to be Ubukata. Though if he had to choose one from all the girls he knew, he would choose her in a heartbeat.

Not because of the soccer, he added quickly. That was more of a practical consideration. Out of all the girls in his life Ubukata was simply the one he clicked with the most.

...Why was he thinking all this? Just what on earth had last night’s conversation with Ooshiba done to his mind?

Not that he would mention any of this out loud. Not in front of these well-meaning but ridiculous idiots who would jump at the slightest hint that he might maybe, possibly like Ubukata  _that_  way after all. Which he didn’t, at least he didn’t suppose so. He was merely... interested.

Was that a crush, then? Was that what a crush meant? Being interested in someone? He had always thought it was supposed to be more. But on the other hand, a crush was still less than being in love, right?

Suddenly he couldn’t help but feel like he had missed out on too many things.

Everyone around him must have experienced crushes before. In high school, in middle school, some maybe even younger. Everyone but him. He had only ever stood by, watching his friends’ messy feelings with a look of distant confusion.

He had never understood their fuss, back then. Middle and high school relationships never lasted long anyway. And he had been too busy juggling studies and sports to worry about anything else, so he hadn’t seen a reason to bother with it all. Sometimes he had caught himself wondering if the others weren’t just playing make-believe. What was the big deal? Either two people liked each other, or they didn’t. Either they stayed together or they didn’t. It made a difference, but there were other important things in the world.

So when had he begun to understood the others? When had he started feeling like all these romantic complications did matter?

Was it because he was growing up? Had he just been a late bloomer? Or was it... because of someone?

Suddenly he wished he had gathered some experience when he was younger. Listened to his friends more closely, given one of the girls who confessed to him a chance.

He wondered how it had been for Ubukata, but of course he couldn’t ask her. But he could ask someone else. And right in front of him sat three perfect candidates.

“Atomu,” he said. “Ura. Kai.”

They glanced at him in expectation.

“I have no experience.” Hoshina looked at them one by one, then he bowed his head. “So, do you mind telling me about yours?”


	11. Smitten Guys Anonymous

Later that day, Hoshina sat curled up in his room again, watching the twilit room grow darker and darker as evening fell. Soon it would be fully dark, he thought, but he didn’t want to get up and turn on the lights just yet. He liked sitting here in the twilight, watching as the shadows lengthened and the stars came out one by one.

Except today it was cloudy, and Hoshina’s mind was occupied with other things anyway. He was still thinking about his conversation with the others, replaying their stories over and over in his head, trying to understand them, trying to compare them to his own situation. There was so much that sounded strange to him, so much that didn’t make sense. Then again, he thought, love rarely made sense. It wasn’t supposed to be something people could explain with words.

Every so often he reached for his phone, sometimes tempted to text Ubukata, sometimes wondering if he should not get back to Kazama and Ooshiba about their offer after all. At the very least these two had to know how being in love felt like. At the very least they could provide him with further insight when he helped them out in return.

But every time he thought he had made up his mind, he withdrew his hand, turning back towards the window and continuing to gaze outside. He didn’t know what to do after all. He didn’t know what his feelings were or what he was supposed to do about them. He had no idea what was appropriate.

His phone buzzed, and Hoshina’s heart skipped a beat as he snatched it up in an instant. Then he slumped with disappointment. It was only a message from Mitsuru, something about meeting his teammates and making connections. They had discussed this only a short time ago. An important topic, sure, but...

But what? Boring? No, that wasn’t it. Hoshina knew this was important, and he was looking forward to it too. So why was he still disappointed?

What had he been expecting, anyway?

Sighing, Hoshina typed in a reply and closed the chat, only to hover over his messages a little longer. The conversation with Ubukata was among his most recent ones. He could message her, he thought, right this instant, if only he could think of something to say.

_Just say hello,_  a voice whispered in his head, reminding him of his friends pushing him to write that silly love letter.  _Ask her how she’s doing. You’re friends; she will be happy you’re thinking of her._

The voice was probably right, Hoshina thought. But he didn’t listen. Somehow just messaging her for no reason felt too trivial, an overly obvious excuse to cover up that he just wanted to talk to her.

_And how,_  the voice responded,  _is that a bad thing?_

Hoshina sighed. He didn’t know. It was just that he’d rather talk to Ubukata about something meaningful, something that mattered. And something meaningful was exactly what he couldn’t come up with at the moment.

So what should he do? Not message her for the time being? Sooner or later he was bound to come up with something to say again, or else life would give him a reason to contact her. There was no need for them to talk every day, anyway.

He thought of his friends’ stories again. Most of their first crushes had been meaningless, inconsequential; inexperienced preteen hearts extending their feelers for the first time, picking a target for their affection seemingly at random, frequently without even having interacted much with that person before. And without much interaction, without ever confessing or getting together, those crushes had faded, leaving little behind except for an innocent memory.

Hoshina couldn’t remember ever having been like this. He couldn’t remember paying much attention to his classmates at all, aside from his own friend group. He wasn’t sure why; he had simply never deemed it necessary.

Other parts of the others’ stories, however, he could relate to. The desire to see the other person, to talk to them, the instinct to look for them in any crowd and any gathering, the disappointment when they didn’t turn out to be there. The tendency to notice the smallest things about them, pay attention to the tiniest details. And, like he had discussed with Ooshiba, the desire to look as good in that person’s eyes as possible.

So was he in love with Ubukata, then? Or did he at least have a crush on her? Was there even a difference?

The others said he was definitely in love, sure. Or at least that was how it looked to them. Did that mean he was being obvious to everyone else but himself? Did more people know? Did  _Ubukata_  know?

...He hoped she didn’t. If he truly did have feelings for her, he’d rather know first so he could figure out what to do.

Still, that left him with a whole stack of unanswered questions.

Should he talk to Kaidou again? Ura? Atomu? Even Aiba, maybe?

Wait a minute...

On second thought, he had a better idea. Or at least one that seemed better at the moment.

And hopefully wouldn’t turn into utter disaster.

\---

Kazama was in the middle of waiting for his turn in the bath and playing a game on his phone when a message notification disrupted his full combo.

Normally he would have complained about that, but all irritation and possible complaints about badly-timed messages disappeared when he saw who it was from. The last person he had expected to hear from on this evening, mostly because he had expected him to take at least a week or two longer.

_Good evening,_ it read, and he grinned at how formal it sounded.  _This is Hoshina from Touin. Does your offer from the other day still stand?_

Of course Kazama couldn’t resist the temptation to reply in the most mischievous, disrespectful way possible.

_OwO whats this?_  he wrote back.  _did u realize ur feelings for demon manager after all?_

Hoshina’s reply took awhile, and Kazama could only imagine him staring at the emoticon in a mixture of confusion and mild horror. But when the response popped up at last, that part of the message wasn’t touched upon at all.

_I’m not sure,_  it read,  _but I’m trying to figure it out. That aside, why do you call her a demon? Ubukata has always seemed very nice to me._

Definitely in love, Kazama thought. If he hadn’t already known it before, this remark would have put it beyond the reach of doubt. Only someone completely, utterly smitten could fail to see how terrifying—and occasionally violent—Ubukata could be.

_dUDE thats bc ur not on her team lmao... trust me shes SCARY scary_

_You think? I know she’s very strong, but I wouldn’t call her scary._

Kazama stifled his laughter. So obvious. This guy was  _so_  obvious, and he had the nerve, the audacity to still doubt his own feelings. He was so clearly viewing Ubukata through heart-shaped, rose-colored glasses and didn’t even realize how tacky he looked to everyone else.

...Well, okay, maybe that was a bit harsh. Ubukata was a decent person (though he was reluctant to admit it), and though she was strict, she was also capable and dedicated (to an inhuman degree that only made her grouchier) and not even that violent anymore (mostly). But still, she was and remained a bit of a demon. He just hoped she had learned to dial back enough to avoid scarring the upcoming first-years for life.

But that was beside the point right now.

_sure man;)_  he wrote back.  _anyway so what do u want?_

Kazama had expected Hoshina to take long to reply, but his response popped up almost startlingly fast.  _I’d like to accept your offer,_  it said.  _I’m happy to help you with the people you like if you help me make sense of my feelings._

“Dude, literally everybody else has made sense of them,” Kazama muttered at the phone. Of course he didn’t write that. It wouldn’t help Hoshina, anyway. As long as he himself had his doubts, everyone else’s opinions were virtually useless.

Still, he was happy. They had one more guy on board, one more person to go to for help and advice. He and Kiichiman, after all, didn’t exactly seem like the best experts to consult on the topic of crush disasters.

Poor Hoshina, he thought with amusement. Now he would have to put up with lovesick complaints and stupid advice from both of them. But hey, at least they had the advantage of knowing Ubukata better than he did.

Grinning to himself, he sent back an OK hand emoji and added Kiichiman and Hoshina to a group.

\---

Ooshiba was still waiting to hear back from Kimishita when he heard his phone ping.

Within a split second he was on his feet, snatching his phone from the charger, greedily switching on the screen to see the notification. Then his shoulders fell abruptly. It was a message, all right. But it was not from Kimishita.

For a moment he was about to get angry at whoever it was that had got his hopes up like this, then he paused. He had been added to a group chat, he realized. Group name:  _Smitten Guys Anonymous._

Curious, he tapped the notification and was brought directly into the group. It was still empty. The list of members showed two others: Kazama and Hoshina.

So Kazama was serious about helping each other out, huh.

_sup_ , a message from Kazama popped up in the empty chat.  _everybody here?_

Ooshiba wrote back at once.  _wtf is this_

_its a group chat bro??? dont u know what a group chat is lmao_

Offended but not surprised, Ooshiba gave a huff, quickly typing in a response.  _SHUT UP SMARTASS imean wtf is ths for_

Before Kazama could reply, another message appeared on the screen, from Hoshina this time.  _Good evening, Ooshiba,_  it read.  _This is Touin’s Hoshina. I’m here to offer you help and ask for some myself._

So formal, Ooshiba thought. His way of writing messages was even more annoyingly adult than Kimishita’s, and that said something. Hell, he sounded as proper as Tsukamoto, except that unlike the latter, he didn’t sound like he had ever used an emoji in his life.

_hi_ , he replied, suddenly remembering that he was still a captain and should probably greet other captains (and ex-captains) with a better first impression than an insult shot at his teammate.  _this is ooshiba_

_and this is kazama lmao,_  Kazama’s response came at once.  _ANYWAY what do we do now?_

There was a short pause, then Hoshina replied,  _If none of you want to ask for help first, I have a favor to ask._

_sure_ , Ooshiba answered just as Kazama wrote,  _oh worm?_

_Can you two tell me a little about yourselves and the ones you like? I’d like to see how similar your stories and feelings are to mine._

\---

It had been a complete coincidence, running into him that day.

Sometimes Kazama looked back and wondered how he had ever ended up in that place, much less at the same time as Tsukushi. He didn’t even remember what exactly he had been doing. Nothing special, probably, just hanging around and killing time and befriending random strangers as he went. Searching for a teammate to join him at futsal, perhaps. It didn’t seem relevant. What mattered was that he had been there. In the right place, at the right time, to run face-first into the meeting of his life.

Whatever it was that had brought him there, he had been in the right place, at the right time, to hear it when a fight broke out.

In hindsight, he should probably have stayed out of trouble, but he had never been that kind of person, and he he had already been inside the family restaurant anyway. If only thanks to getting lost in town and dozing off. Kazama wasn’t the type to step in or defend people. At least he hadn’t been back then. Other people’s struggles weren’t his problem, just like others didn’t care what he had to deal with. Why should he care?

Except, when he saw the small, frail-looking, timid boy struggling and trying to stand up for himself, alone and outnumbered, something within him stirred.

Kazama’s body moved without thinking. Almost on reflex he pulled his nunchucks out of his pockets and hit the bullies out of the way, all of them in one fell swoop. Then he hit himself by accident, but they had already backed off. He stood between them and the boy, not budging until they were gone.

Only then did he turn around to really look at the guy he had saved. And came to a split-second realization.

_Oh no, he’s cute._

Whether by fate or pure coincidence, the boy who had moved him into protecting him just happened to be attractive beyond description. His wide eyes were ocean-blue and shining; his short black hair was slightly messy and looked soft and fluffy like cat fur; his features were soft and kind, and the blush on his cheeks gave him a glow that positively radiated a gentle warmth. Most people would probably have passed him by, thinking him plain, but Kazama just happened to have a huge weakness for bright eyes and soft hair and features.

“Thank you for saving me!” the poor guy said as he bowed, actually bowed in front of someone his own age. Kazama felt a little bad for him. But before he could follow that thought any further, he had to take care of his own bloody nose.

“My bad,” he said when he had stopped the bleeding. “You were doing your best and I barged in.”

The boy blinked at him, looking like he had expected any answer but that. “Eh?”

“The way you tried so hard to get your phone back moved me,” Kazama said with a smile. “You were pretty cool.”

The boy’s eyes went round. For a moment he only stared at him, disbelieving, as if waiting for the punchline to some kind of joke. Then tears welled up in those kind-hearted blue eyes, and he hurried to wipe them with a muffled sniffle and sob.

“What’s up with you?” Kazama replied, freaking out in his turn. “Why are you crying?”

“Sorry...” The boy wiped his eyes again. “It’s just, nobody ever called me cool before, and then I just...”

Kazama’s protective instincts spiked. In hindsight, it was probably somewhere around this moment that he had truly been gone.

“Here,” he said, passing over one of his prank handkerchiefs, the only kind he carried. “You don’t really gotta return it to me.”

The boy started crying even harder, with gratitude this time, and Kazama stood next to him while he tried to calm down. Eventually they were interrupted by the guy’s friend—Sayurin, as Kazama learned later—and only later did Kazama realize that he had paid her no heed at all. She, too, should have been his type; she certainly had the right curves and a cute face, but somehow, in that situation, he had only thought of her as the cute guy’s friend.

The guy’s name, as Kazama found out, was Tsukamoto Tsukushi, and he was as painfully shy as he was sweet and determined. What he also was, to Kazama’s dismay, was completely and utterly oblivious. The unsubtle hint in Kazama’s first-name-first introduction to just call him Jin flew entirely over his head, and he didn’t even take his offered hand (though he didn’t mind when Kazama reached out and grabbed his). In fact, he seemed completely resistant to any and all flirtation; but he was also cute, enthusiastic and very excited about meeting Kazama, and he figured that was good enough to keep trying.

What happened then was history. To keep him safe from his lurking bullies, Kazama had brought Tsukushi with him long enough to eventually exchange numbers and invite him to futsal. Which was only partly an excuse to stay in touch, seriously. If anything it was a lucky, lucky coincidence.

But after that match, days after days passed and there was nothing from Tsukushi.

Kazama tried not to be disappointed. It was yet another guy who didn’t get back to him, because of course he didn’t; all the guys he had flirted with were either oblivious or tragically straight, and often a combination of both. But somehow this disappointment felt just a little different. A little stronger. A little more persistent.

And so he couldn’t even begin to describe his amazement when he entered his classroom on the first day of school and instantly spotted a familiar face.

The rest... well, the rest had just happened.

The weirdest part was that for some time Kazama had been perfectly convinced that he wasn’t really into Tsukushi, romantically. It had felt so different from all his past crushes; no butterflies, no flirty moments, no staring into each other’s eyes for extended amounts of time, just friendship and adoration in the happiest, most platonic way. Except... not really. The way Kazama had looked at Tsukushi, the way he had stuck to him, the way the very sight of him had lit up his day, should have given away that he was already head over heels in love.

And then he was injured and subbed out during their training camp, and Ubukata had finally made him realize it.

His best friend. His pride. His sunshine after years of clouds and rain and thunderstorms. His purpose.

His renewed motivation to live.

Kazama knew he sounded like a sap, and he couldn’t care less. Everything about him and Tsukushi was sappy and cheesy in the best, happiest way, and life had never been better. He wouldn’t change a thing. Even if offered the world, he would never even think about going back.

Okay, maybe there was one thing he would change. He was trying. And struggling.

But that was okay.

Even if nothing more ever happened, even if they never became anything other than friends, Kazama would be happy. He was grateful just to have him in his life and call him his friend. Sometimes he couldn’t help feeling like that was already more than he deserved.

Except, he thought with a smile, he shouldn’t feel like that. Tsukushi would be upset with him. And if push came to shove, Kazama didn’t really want to find out if he would get all sad and emotional or turn into the spitting image of his scolding mom.

Maybe that was it. The way Tsukushi changed him into a better person just by existing in his life. The way just having him there changed his whole life for the better. Maybe that was the reason why he loved him so much.

\---

Looking back, Ooshiba had no idea how or when he had fallen in love with Kimishita Atsushi.

It hadn’t been love at first sight, that was for sure. Their first meeting had been a disaster; Ooshiba the proud ace with a shining pride and a bright future, and Kimishita the scraggly nobody with stupid hair and stupider clothes, fearlessly marching up to him and punching him square in the face. It had been no wonder that Ooshiba had been furious. Nobody had ever dared to punch him like that before, and the fact that this guy seemed to have no clue who he was, let alone care, was an even greater crime. Disrespectful. Annoying. Insufferable. Ruining his grand entrance and first impression for what, a bunch of stupid rules? That had to be the lamest, nerdiest, most killjoy thing he had ever seen in his life.

Bumping into each other back then, Ooshiba had been sure he and Kimishita would never get along. And sure enough, for the longest time, they hadn’t. They had fought and argued constantly. They had exchanged threats and punches and yelled at each other across the pitch, and several times their teammates had to keep them from straight-up murdering each other. Every day Ooshiba would wake up counting down the days until they got into high school and finally, finally played on separate teams.

And that would have been it, if it hadn’t been for that  _connection_.

Ooshiba didn’t know how to describe it. It had just felt right. In everyday life they could squabble and fight and punch each other in the face, but when playing soccer, suddenly everything changed. Suddenly it was like their minds were linked, their skills joined together, Kimishita’s high-precision passes and Ooshiba’s powerful shots merging into one single unstoppable weapon. One glance, one movement was all they needed to know what the other was thinking. They both had exactly what the other needed to make up the ultimate winning combination.

He felt so close to him during these moments, so happy. If it was the two of them, he felt, they could do anything. As long as Kimishita was there, he was invincible. And as long as he was there, Kimishita would never fail.

And so he became addicted. Addicted to this feeling. Addicted to the trust, the connection, the euphoria of scored goals and victories, the way their eyes met just for a moment whenever they scored, proud, triumphant, a joy that was just for the two of them before they looked away from each other and cheered with their team.

And little by little, he grew addicted to Kimishita too.

It started with noticing things about him he had never realized before, the way his eyes darted over the pitch at lightning speed to take in every passing route and every opening, the way his entire body seemed to tense up and focus when his foot touched the ball, the way he furrowed his brow in concentration when he spoke to someone he respected. The way he walked, the way he talked, the way he twirled a pencil in his hands when taking notes, the way he raked his dark hair out of his face after playing... the way how, very rarely and almost unnoticeably, he smiled.

The way how, deep down, hidden under layers of grumpiness and insults, he trusted Ooshiba just as much as Ooshiba trusted him.

He hadn’t known what this feeling was, back then. He had been drawn to Kimishita, interested, sometimes even mesmerized, sure. But only when they entered high school did he suddenly realize what it had been all along.

Namely, when Mizuki entered the picture and he suddenly felt like he had been replaced.

At first Ooshiba had thought he was only angry because he was no longer the ace. He had always been the one to score goals and win matches, and now he was suddenly number two, a decoy at best, forgotten in favor of the shining, infuriatingly perfect star that was Mizuki Hisahito. Then he had realized it made him angry that he was no longer  _Kimishita’s_  ace—no longer the one he sent passes to, no longer the one he shared that psychic connection with. His playmaker had found a new forward. But Ooshiba hadn’t found a new playmaker.

And then, suddenly, when he caught himself suspecting Kimishita might have a crush on Mizuki, it hit him like a ton of bricks.

Love. It was love. He was in love with Kimishita.

And damn it, he did not want to lose him to the guy who had already taken everything else that had once been his.

Kimishita had been his playmaker first, anyway. They had known each other for much longer. They understood each other way better. It should be him that Kimishita sent passes to. It should be him that Kimishita liked.

But every time he had tried to show that, it had backfired. Spectacularly.

Which obviously had nothing to do with him being just a little bit rude about it. That was just how he and Kimishita talked about everything. If that jerk didn’t get it, not his fault.

Of course, if he could get away from that default and hug and cuddle and kiss him and hold his stupid hands, Ooshiba wasn’t saying he wouldn’t do that in a heartbeat.

He still thought Kimishita was an asshole. But for some stupid reason he’d rather have this very specific asshole than every nice person in the world.

\---

Hoshina gazed at the screen, then he let his eyes drift out through the window and into the street below.

He didn’t know what to think, really. Kazama and Ooshiba’s stories were fundamentally different in everything, from their first meeting with their special someones to how long it had taken them to realize their feelings. Where Kazama had fallen fast and hard and proudly worshipped the very ground Tsukamoto walked on, Ooshiba had taken years, and even now he was reluctant to admit how in love he was. Their very feelings towards their respective crushes seemed so unlike each other, and yet at the core they were the same. Perhaps a matter of personality.

But in one part their stories were both the same, and that was how profound their feelings were. Both of their lives had so drastically changed by meeting the one they liked, almost like soulmates in a romance novel, intertwined by fate. He didn’t know how normal this was, or if it was even supposed to be that way at all. And if it was... what should he make of it?

He thought back to meeting Ubukata. The day was still clear in his memory, vivid and alive, but he didn’t feel like it had been world-changing. He had simply met an interesting person, and then the match had happened and his interest had grown. He hadn’t really felt like she was his soulmate or his fated missing piece. He had only been intrigued, impressed by the incredible feat she had pulled off, wondering how she had managed it, how difficult it had been. And then he had met her and spoken to her again, and the interest had turned into admiration for her hard, dedicated work.

And then... well, he supposed they had somehow become friends.

And now? Hoshina didn’t know. The others’ tales hadn’t done anything to clear up his doubts about his feelings, on the contrary. He had never been less convinced that he, too, was in love.

But he did know something else.

He wanted to help these two. Even if they couldn’t help him, he wanted to see them happy with the people they liked.

So he would simply do his best and hope that someday he would understand.

\---

“Kazama-kun, the bath is free now!”

Still toweling his hair, Tsukushi padded towards his room, where he had left his best friend. The lack of an answer didn’t surprise him, though with Kazama’s current state it did worry him slightly. He tried to dismiss his concern. When he had left for the bath (going first, at Kazama’s insistence), Kazama had been in the middle of putting on his headphones and opening a rhythm game on his phone. Of course he wouldn’t hear him with headphones on and music in his ears.

Carefully opening the door in case his best friend had dozed off again after all, Tsukushi peeked into the room.

Kazama was awake. He was no longer wearing his headphones, though he was still on his phone, tapping away on the screen and evidently typing a message. And smiling. He was positively beaming at the screen, his face alight with affection and deep, warm adoration.

Tsukushi paused. He had never seen that kind of expression on Kazama’s face before. He had seen him happy and adoring, sure, but this was another level, something unfamiliar and impossible to comprehend. For some reason Tsukushi couldn’t help feeling like he had just walked in on something deeply personal.

He wondered who Kazama was texting to make him smile like that.

Whoever it was, it had to be a wonderful person.

He didn’t want to interrupt. He wanted to back away and close the door again and leave him alone, but before he could leave, Kazama glanced up from the screen and gave a start. “Oh, Tsukushi!” he blurted out. “How long have you been here?”

Tsukushi shuffled a little. “I just got here,” he said. “Um... the bath is free.”

“Okay, thanks!” Kazama grinned at him, then he tapped something else into his phone and put it away. “I’m gonna go in a moment.”

Tsukushi watched him as he stood up and left the room, but for some reason all he could think was that his smile had faded as soon as he had seen him in the doorframe.


	12. Chocolaty Business

Monday evening found them all sitting around a table at a family restaurant, coming together in person for whatever stupid reason. The reason, of course, being that it was very hard communicating in a group chat when Hoshina alternated between overformal walls of text and silence for hours and Ooshiba’s texts were so full of typos and abbreviations they required a linguist to decode.

And so they were here. Slurping their soda, scribbling onto a notepad and all looking a lot more serious than three high school boys on a family restaurant outing had any business being.

“Okay,” Kazama said, his face comically serious as he tented his fingers like a scheming anime villain, “so what do we do next?”

They all looked at each other. Ooshiba shrugged. Hoshina furrowed his brow in deep thought. “I was hoping you knew.”

In an instant Kazama’s over-serious aura was gone. “Hey, hey,” he exclaimed, “why me?”

Hoshina blinked at him. “I thought you’re the one among us who has the most experience.”

“With  _dating_ ,” Kazama shot back. “Not with, like, cheesy romance novel-type love, man! And I’ve only ever dated girls, so...”

“You’re trying to help me with a girl.”

“I’m, uh... pretty sure Ubukata doesn’t count as a normal girl,” Kazama replied and immediately peered over his shoulder as if expecting her to pop up and yell at him at any given second. “Don’t tell her I said that.”

“I won’t,” Hoshina replied at once, half puzzled, half amused at Kazama’s slight dread of his own manager; he really didn’t get what was supposed to be scary about Ubukata Chikako. Ooshiba made no response; he was slurping on his milkshake.

“Anyway,” Kazama went on, “I’ve got some experience with what girls want, or what girls who are my type want, anyway. Ubukata’s not. And I dunno much about guys because, aside from Kiichiman here and Kimishita-kun, most of ‘em are pretty freaking straight.”

Ooshiba almost choked on his milkshake. “You think Kimishita’s not straight?”

“C’mon, Kiichiman, have you  _seen_  Kimishita-kun?” Kazama burst out laughing. “Have you seen how he used to look at Ex-Captain? Have you seen how he acts when you bring up him and a girlfriend? ‘I don’t want a girlfriend, I don’t need a girlfriend, it’s a waste of time!’“ He put on a mock-scowl to imitate Kimishita. “Any circle’s straighter than that guy!”

Ooshiba stared at him, his face turning progressively redder as he processed that information until it almost matched his hair. “Oh.”

“I thought you knew, man!” Kazama replied, still laughing. “Or did you just wanna hit on a straight dude till he started liking you?”

Ooshiba made no response to that, his brain evidently still stuck in error mode. Knowing what he did of him, Hoshina wouldn’t be surprised if he had never thought that far at all.

“Anyway,” Kazama remarked, sobering up, “that aside. Guys, we have a problem.”

The others looked at him in question.

“Valentine’s Day.” He pointed at the calendar hanging on a nearby wall. “It’s this week.”

Awkward silence.

“So,” Kazama continued, “what are we gonna do?”

\---

“By the way,” Kimishita had stopped him before practice earlier, “Kiichi.”

Ooshiba paused, blinking down at him in surprise; Kimishita didn’t usually start conversations with him before practice. “What’s up?”

“I talked to my old man about your suggestion. You know, the one I still think is absolute bullshit.”

Ooshiba flushed. “It’s not bullshit!” he shot back. “I’m serious, asshole!”

“I know!” Kimishita replied. “Why do you think I talked to my old man in the first place?”

Ooshiba didn’t have a clever response to that, so he only stared at him in expectation. “And?”

Kimishita sighed.

“He said it’s fine.”

Ooshiba’s jaw dropped open. “What?”

“Did I fucking stutter? He said it’s fine! He’s on board with your bullshit!” Kimishita clicked his tongue. “So I guess it’s a go now.”

For a few seconds Ooshiba had to pause and process that. Then the message hit him, and his face lit up.

“So we can get started?” he exclaimed, his eyes shiny. “What do we need first? Hm, we gotta get all the people. And then we need equipment and shit. Maybe from the people. So that means I gotta talk to the team and then go around your neighborhood and–”

An elbow in his ribcage interrupted his flow. “Shut up.”

Ooshiba’s head spun around to stare at Kimishita in confusion. “But!”

“Don’t ‘But’ me! One thing after the next!” Kimishita clicked his tongue. “First things first we need to decide what to do. We can’t go around gathering people and equipment before we know that, moron!”

Ooshiba almost replied that he already knew what to do, but at the last second he restrained himself. “What do you wanna do?” he asked instead. “You and your dad.”

Kimishita blinked, his green eyes widening, as if he hadn’t expected this question. Then he furrowed his brow. “Not sure,” he said. “You’re probably right about the storefront needing a fix. People can barely see there’s an open store there.”

Ooshiba nodded enthusiastically, just a moment before the realization hit him. Had Kimishita just agreed with his suggestion?

“As for the rest,” Kimishita went on, “we’ll see. Maybe paint the walls, they do look bad. I’ll ask my old man what he thinks too–” He stopped short. “No, wait. You should.”

This time it was Ooshiba’s turn to look baffled. “Me?”

“It was your idea, wasn’t it?” Kimishita scowled up at him. “Come over sometime and we can plan this. But not today, Pops is meeting with the neighborhood association.”

Ooshiba’s eyes shone. “Tomorrow?”

Furrowing his brow, Kimishita thought for a moment before giving a brief nod. “Tomorrow’s fine.”

Ooshiba was nothing but smiles for the rest of the morning.

\---

“Chocolates?”

Kazama and Ooshiba both stared at Hoshina in unison, partly baffled by the suggestion itself, partly by the fact that it came from Hoshina of all people. “You mean we should give chocolates?” Kazama repeated, wide-eyed. “To the people we like?”

Hoshina nodded. “That’s what people do on Valentine’s Day, isn’t it?”

“I mean, yeah,” Kazama replied. “Generally Valentine’s is just for the girls though. White Day’s for the guys.”

“I thought it was different this year.”

“Oh, the love letter challenge? I mean, that was kinda... just for love letters, but...” Kazama scratched his cheek. “Maybe we can like... use it as an excuse? Although I’m probably gonna end up telling Tsukushi it’s just friend chocolate anyway...”

“That’s fine,” Hoshina replied at once. “I’m giving friend chocolate to Ubukata too.”

Kazama gave him a long, long, exasperated look. “Poor Manager,” he said at last. “She’s gonna be so crushed when you tell her that.”

“What?”

“Never mind! What do  _you_  think, Kiichiman? You haven’t said anything.”

Ooshiba wasn’t listening. His eyes were glazed over, a smug smile on his vacant face as he visibly imagined all kinds of absurd situations.

“Hey, dude,” Kazama laughed, whacking him in the ribs and watching him jolt. “Stop daydreaming!”

Ooshiba shook his head, blinked, and wiped a bit of drool from the corner of his mouth. “I wasn’t daydreaming.”

“Fantasizing, then? Dude, anybody could see what you were thinking of.” Ooshiba blushed, and Kazama smirked. “So, whaddya think about the whole thing? Gonna give chocolates to our crushes or not?”

Ooshiba’s eyes sparkled, and it was glaringly obvious that he was still half caught in his delusions. “Sure! When are we starting?”

Hoshina hesitated. Part of him wondered if this was really a good idea all of a sudden, with Ooshiba acting like that. Then again, when he imagined giving his own chocolates to Ubukata, possibly receiving some in return...

No thinking of that right now. He couldn’t really imagine it anyway.

But rather than that...

“Starting on what?” he asked.

“Making chocolates,” Ooshiba replied, completely matter-of-fact only seconds after indulging in his delusions. “What else?”

“We...” Hoshina frowned. “We should make them ourselves?”

Ooshiba stared back at him. “Isn’t that what people do?”

There was an awkward silence. Hoshina, Ooshiba and Kazama all stared at each other, half confused, half sheepish.

“Hold up,” Kazama broke the silence at last. “Does anybody here know how to make chocolates in the first place?”

Ooshiba furrowed his brow, then he tapped his palm with his fist. “It can’t be that hard–”

“Okay, Kiichiman, you’re officially banned from making chocolates unsupervised,” Kazama cut him off. “We don’t want you to poison Kimishita-kun or something.” He gave a laugh. “I dunno how to make chocolates either, by the way.”

“I don’t either,” Hoshina added. “Sorry.”

Another awkward silence. Then Kazama scratched the back of his head. “Oops.”

Ooshiba crossed his arms and pouted, visibly sulking. “But I still wanna make chocolates.”

“Dude, you can literally just buy the fanciest, most expensive chocolates and Kimishita-kun will be happy!”

“But that’s not romantic! On Valentine’s you gotta make the chocolates yourself!”

“Not if you can’t cook, man! It’s not romantic to poison your crush!”

“Wait a second.”

They both paused, turning around to face Hoshina. “Hm?”

“I don’t know anything about making chocolates either,” he said, “but I do know someone who might be able to help us.”

\---

“So,” Aiba replied, audibly amused, “that’s why you called me?”

Hoshina nodded, fully aware Aiba couldn’t see it through the phone. “Yes,” he said. “My thought was that since you’re such an expert on sweets, you might know someone who can teach us.”

There was a beat of silence, then Aiba burst out laughing. “Seriously?” he burst out. “You didn’t think about just, I don’t know, asking a girl for help? Or just Googling it like a normal person?”

Suddenly Hoshina felt very sheepish. “I don’t know any girls who could teach me,” he said. “Or anyone, actually.”

“What about your buddies? I’m pretty sure Ooshiba has a sister, you guys could just ask her!”

“I think he’s embarrassed.”

“That doesn’t explain Kazama,” Aiba replied. “Doesn’t he know like a zillion girls he could ask?”

Hoshina frowned in thought, trying to mentally list off all the girls Kazama could have asked and coming up all Ubukata. “I’m not sure.”

“And so you asked me,” Aiba concluded for him. “A guy who’s on the opposite side of the country and can’t even come over to help you guys.”

“We aren’t asking  _you_  to–”

“Oh, but I can,” Aiba replied. “Easy-peasy.”

Hoshina’s mouth dropped open. “What?”

“I know how to make chocolates,” Aiba said matter-of-factly. “I only put weird prank stuff into them  _sometimes_ , don’t worry. Though that time I pranked Chinen-san on Valentine’s and made him think he had a secret admirer  _was_  pretty funny.” He laughed out loud. “You should’ve seen his face when he bit into the chocolate and realized it was filled with mustard!”

That wasn’t exactly reassuring, Hoshina thought.

“Anyway,” Aiba continued, sobering up, “I can make chocolates without mustard too. That leaves just one problem.”

“The time?” Hoshina guessed.

“The time,” Aiba replied. “I can’t exactly fly down to coach you guys in the middle of the week. And next weekend will be too late.”

Hoshina suppressed a sigh. “That’s why I didn’t ask you,” he said, “but–”

“However,” Aiba cut him off, “I don’t have to.”

_That’s exactly what I was saying,_  Hoshina thought in increasing confusion. “Don’t have to do what?” he said out loud.

“Fly down to teach you guys,” Aiba replied. “I can just do it over a video call.”

Hoshina opened his mouth and closed it again. “No, wait,” he said at last. “I don’t think that’s necessary–”

“It’s absolutely necessary! Do you really think I’d miss out on something this fun?” Aiba laughed. “I wouldn’t do that for the world!”

Hoshina’s doubts increased by the second. “Aiba, we’re serious–”

“And so was I! Dead serious.” Aiba’s voice wasn’t convincing at all. “I promise I’m gonna teach you how to make proper chocolates without weird stuff in them, okay?”

“If you say so...”

Aiba cleared his throat, then his voice turned serious again. “Look, I’m not stupid enough to get between you and Seiseki’s manager,” he said, making Hoshina gape at the phone; he hadn’t mentioned any of the chocolates’ recipients at all. “Don’t get all surprised. Anybody can see that you like her.”

_Do I?_  Hoshina wondered for the millionth time, but he didn’t say anything.

“So, yeah.” He could almost see Aiba smiling at him, half playful, half serious. “I’m not gonna break bro code and cause you trouble with her, okay?”

Hoshina took a deep breath. Alright, he was convinced. He might feel like Aiba’s loyalty here was a little misplaced, but at least it showed that he truly did mean it. Somehow, despite all the difficulties, he would try his best to teach them all through a video call.

“Alright,” he said. “We’ll be in your care.”

\---

“So, Tsukushi,” Kazama said, casually leaning over, “are you gonna do anything for Valentine’s Day?”

His heart was definitely not beating a little faster as he said that. There were no butterflies in his stomach either. At least he hoped Tsukushi would buy that, anyway.

Tsukushi went a little pink, then he fidgeted, smiling slightly. “I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe I’ll make something for my mom. After all, Valentine’s Day is about all kinds of love, right?”

That wasn’t the answer Kazama had expected, let alone hoped for, but his heart was warmed all the same. “Yeah!” he said, smiling and nudging him in the side. “Go treat your angel mom to something nice, she deserves it!”

Tsukushi’s whole face lit up, and Kazama brightened too, instantly feeling like he had said the right thing. Then he tilted his head and smiled innocently. “Anybody else?” he asked. “Friends, maybe?”

“Hmm... Sayuri-chan will probably give me something, like every year,” Tsukushi mused. “But I always give her something back on White Day. Do you think it’s too much to give her something twice? I don’t want her to feel like she has to give anything in return, so, um...”

“I don’t think she’s gonna mind,” Kazama laughed, pushing down the sting of doubt and slight jealousy. “I bet Sayurin will be really happy!”

Tsukushi breathed a small sigh of relief. “I hope so,” he said. “I feel a bit weird, but since everyone does it...” He fidgeted. “I don’t really have anyone to confess my feelings to, so um... I’ll just use the day to show my love to my family and friends!”

“Lucky,” Kazama said, ignoring the much more acute sting of Tsukushi’s words. “I bet Yuki’s not gonna give me anything. Little sisters can be mean.”

“Who knows!” Tsukushi laughed. “Maybe she will after all.”

“Nope, I’m pretty sure she won’t. She’s just been saying stuff about giving some to Sayurin and Ubukata.” Kazama pouted. “I’m gonna starve.”

“Don’t worry, Kazama-kun! I’ll definitely give you something!”

Kazama’s heart skipped a beat. “What?”

“I’ll give you chocolate,” Tsukushi said, looking anxious and flustered but determined. “You’re my best friend, so of course I will!”

Kazama stared at him, momentarily trapped in a daze as the thoughts  _chocolate from Tsukushi on Valentine’s Day_  and  _best friend_  warred in his head, pulling him back and forth between joy and pain. Finally the joy won, and he grabbed Tsukushi’s shoulder to stare at him in comically dramatic gratitude. “Bro...”

Tsukushi laughed sheepishly. “It’s not really a big deal, don’t worry about it...”

“It is to me!” Kazama said truthfully, nearly knocking him over as he tackled him with a hug. “Thank you so much, Tsukushi!”

Tsukushi gave a yelp, frantically balancing them both before laughing and leaning into the hug. “It’s really okay,” he said. “Just, um...”

Kazama loosened his hold. “Hm?”

“I want to try and make them myself the day before Valentine’s,” Tsukushi said, looking down and fidgeting. “So, um... if there’s anyone you’d like to make chocolates for too, feel free to join me!”

Kazama’s entire life flashed before his eyes.

The thirteenth. Of course Tsukushi would want to make chocolates on the afternoon before Valentine’s. It was a completely logical thought. There was just one problem with it.

Namely, the thought was so logical that he, Kiichiman and Hoshina had already had the same idea.

What now?

Should he call it off? He would love to. Fun as it sounded to try to make chocolates with the other guys, a chocolate-making date with Tsukushi sounded so much better. Tsukushi was inviting him. He had an excuse to spend the afternoon with him at his place. It sounded like heaven.

But that wouldn’t be fair to the others. He had agreed to do this with the guys earlier. And they might need help. They were his wingmen now, sure, but he was also theirs, and he couldn’t just drop the task whenever he felt like it.

And besides, if he said yes to Tsukushi, he couldn’t surprise him on Valentine’s anymore. How romantic was it to give chocolates to your crush if the crush had already taken part in their making, anyway? That wasn’t even a proper gift!

So, tragically, regretfully, he sighed and offered a sheepish grin.

“Sorry,” he said. “I already got plans for that day.”

He just hoped Aiba’s instructions would really, really make up for the look of barely-concealed disappointment on Tsukushi’s face.

\---

“What’s up, guys!” Aiba’s voice rang out from the speaker, obnoxiously cheerful and obnoxiously loud. “Are you ready to woo your crushes?”

Ooshiba stared at the laptop screen, then at Hoshina. “Why is  _he_  here?”

“He’s our instructor,” Hoshina replied, somehow looking a little apologetic. “I only meant to ask him if he knew anyone, but turns out he knows how to make chocolates himself.”

“So you’re our teacher, huh?” Grinning, Kazama waved into the camera. “Who’d have guessed we’d meet again like this! That’s wild, man.”

Aiba crossed his arms and grinned back. “That’s right,” he said. “We can have our rematch some other day. For today I’m your wingman!”

Ooshiba scowled. An unpleasant memory popped back up in his mind... well, not exactly unpleasant, he thought as he remembered sitting in the same booth with Kimishita, bickering back and forth once Aiba had left. But the part where Aiba had been there... it had definitely been awkward. He had no business knowing this much about them. And Ooshiba definitely wouldn’t let him know any more.

“I don’t need a wingman,” he said. “Just show me how to make this.”

From the screen Aiba gave him a long, long look. Ooshiba couldn’t shake the feeling that he already knew too much.

“Sure thing,” he chimed, and the feeling intensified. “Did you guys get everything I asked you to?”

They nodded and pointed at the pile of ingredients spread out in Ooshiba’s kitchen.

Aiba took one look, then he burst out laughing. “That’s so much!” he exclaimed. “Who’s gonna eat all that?”

“It’s backup,” Hoshina replied before Ooshiba could say anything. “So we can redo it a few times in case something goes wrong.”

“Oh, so you bought them? That explains everything, I thought it was this guy.” Aiba pointed at Ooshiba. “I would’ve thought he just wanted to flaunt his money in front of his crush.”

Kazama glanced over his shoulder, regarding Ooshiba with amusement. “You’d totally do that, Kiichiman.”

“Would not!”

Hoshina blinked at him in confusion. “I had the impression that you would.”

He looked so serious that Ooshiba couldn’t even yell at him, at least not without ruining his captainly reputation. So he crossed his arms, grumbled something unintelligible and sulked like a very mature adult.

“Anyway,” Aiba’s voice came blaring from the laptop. “Let’s get started, guys!”

\---

It had taken them a grand total of thirty minutes to turn the kitchen into a royal mess.

There was chocolate everywhere. On the stove, on the table, even on the floor everything was spattered in chocolate, footprints painting a pattern that would take hours to clean up. Cookies lay spread all over the table; some of them had fallen on the floor and been stepped on, mixing with the melted chocolate into something that would have been delicious if it had been made literally any other way. At least one of the pots in which they had melted the chocolate had boiled and bubbled over, its contents spilling freely all over the stove and dripping down the side of the oven.

“Oh man,” Aiba said in disbelief from the laptop screen, which was miraculously still clean. “How did you guys manage that when you were literally just doing what I said?”

Ooshiba spun around to glare at him while wiping a smear of chocolate off his cheek. “Maybe your instructions are shit!”

“Maybe you guys just suck really bad,” Aiba replied. “Are you sure it’s a good idea to keep trying? I’d just clean up and buy premade chocolates if I were you–”

“No!” all three of them shouted in unison. “We’re gonna keep trying,” Ooshiba added, licking the chocolate off his fingers. “We’re not gonna give up just ‘cause it went wrong the first time!”

“Well said, Kiichiman!” Kazama pumped his fist, almost knocking over the pot behind him as Hoshina dived in to save it. “We’re serious about the people we like, so we can be serious about this too!”

“It’s a good thing we bought the spare ingredients.” Hoshina glanced at the pile he had moved out of reach of the chaos in wise premonition. “Tell us what to do now, Aiba, and we’ll definitely manage.”

Aiba only looked half convinced, but he gave a lopsided grin and nodded. “Okay,” he said. “For starters, get those pots off the stove and clean all that stuff up.”

\---

They didn’t drown the kitchen in chocolate a second time, but it wasn’t getting any easier.

Aiba had said it was easy enough, and getting the melted chocolate into the molds sure was (if they managed not to burn themselves in the process, a feat only Hoshina pulled off). Tipping over the mold to get out the excess chocolate was already harder, but for whatever reason not as hard as knowing when it had fully hardened after putting it in the freezer. Each time they got it out it still looked wobbly and overly soft, and they ended up putting it back into the freezer only to pull it back out again barely a minute later. At last they gave up and left it to freeze, and when they finally remembered to get it out, it had turned into crunchy ice cream.

It was Kazama who saved that situation. After the second or third try he developed a near-uncanny sense of timing, and when he finally pulled out the molds with the chocolate they were just at the right texture. Ooshiba, meanwhile, excelled in mixing the fillings. They were made of chocolate too, though different kinds, along with sugar and cream; Kazama had chosen milk chocolate, Hoshina dark chocolate, and Ooshiba, of course, strawberry chocolate. They needed to be heated and then stirred, and then they, too, ended up in the fridge to thicken up while the chocolate molds were coated with another layer of chocolate and put back into the freezer.

“Gimme that, Kiichiman,” Kazama said as Ooshiba struggled to get the chilled filling into his chocolates. “Can you mind the pot for a sec? I’m handling this.”

Ooshiba nodded and stood over the pot with the last of the heated chocolate, which would go over the filling as soon as that was cold enough. It was still in the middle of melting, solid in parts, turning liquid in others; he pushed it back and forth with the spoon, watching the solid bits dissolve as Kazama finished filling the chocolates and placed them in the fridge.

“Can you help me with mine too?” Hoshina asked as he pushed his own attempted chocolates towards Kazama, who nodded cheerfully. “Thank you. I’ll take care of covering them again in a moment.”

Kazama and Ooshiba sighed with relief; they hadn’t looked forward to burning their hands. Pushing the last of the filled chocolates into the freezer, Hoshina closed the fridge door and began to clean up with Kazama’s help while Ooshiba continued to mind the melting chocolate. They had put it on a bit soon, he thought. He might have to turn down the heat or something, or else it would get burned or be cold again by the time they took things out of the freezer again.

Then, finally, Hoshina spread the last layer of chocolate over the filled molds, and then it was time to wait.

They used the time to continue the cleaning. By now things were going almost smoothly; there was only a minimal amount of splotches on the floor and their clothes, and they almost didn’t snack as they worked. Well, to be fair, it had only ever been Kazama snacking. Hoshina was too serious, and Ooshiba was so focused on doing well on his task that he had only snacked once to check the taste of the filling.

“They’re done!” Kazama suddenly said when they had almost finished cleaning the kitchen, and none of them questioned how he knew. Ooshiba opened the fridge and pulled them out. Sure enough, they looked done.

“We can pop them out,” Kazama said in amazement, almost dropping his chocolates. “Holy crap, I hope I’m not gonna break them!”

Ooshiba hesitated too. He didn’t want his hard work to look stupid because he hadn’t managed to get it out properly. Very, very carefully, he began to peel off the mold and almost winced when a bit of excess chocolate on the edge gave a crack.

“Like this?” Hoshina asked, and they turned around to find his chocolates already out on a plate, flawlessly shaped. The mold lay an arm’s reach away as if he had had no trouble with it at all.

They both stared at him with shiny eyes, and he cracked a small smile. “Hold on, I’ll help,” he said, peeling out his companions’ chocolates with graceful ease. “There you go.”

They stared at their chocolates. Then at each other.

They had managed. Somehow. Without any major disasters.

“Whew!” Kazama sighed. “Now we just gotta wrap them, huh?”

“Yup.” Ooshiba gave an excited nod, even as his heartbeat picked up. “And I’m gonna write a note too. It’s gonna be all romantic.”

“Oooh!” Within seconds Kazama was all up in his face. “We’re gonna help! Right, Hoshina-san?”

Hoshina nodded. “I’m happy to help. Would you like to help too, Ai–” He paused. “Aiba?”

The laptop had been silent for quite some time. Even now there was no reaction.

A glance at the screen revealed why. Aiba lay with his head on his desk, evidently fast asleep. But even in the middle of his nap there was still a smile on his face.

“Well,” Hoshina said, ending the video call, “just the three of us will be enough too.”


	13. Valentine's Dismay

Ooshiba had been dead tired, but the next morning he woke up at five o’clock.

Groaning, he rolled over and tried to sleep again, but one glance at the calendar on the wall made his pulse pick up. And then he spotted the box of chocolate lying on the desk, perfectly packaged, and all possibilities of sleep he had had went flying right out through the window.

It was today. Today was the day. The day he gave Kimishita Valentine’s Day chocolates and that note was today. Today was Valentine’s Day, and Valentine’s Day was today. Not yesterday, not tomorrow. Today.

Wild.

He rolled on the other side of the bed, trying to think of something else. He was absolutely not nervous, he told himself. Who was nervous? Only losers got nervous. Or middle school girls, or maybe Tsukamoto. Tsukamoto wasn’t a loser though. He thought Ooshiba was cool, so he was a good kid by default. Anyway, Ooshiba was not a loser and he also wasn’t a girl or Tsukamoto, so he was not nervous. Not. Nervous.

Okay, maybe a little bit nervous.

Actually, a lot nervous.

He sat up. His heart was racing way too fast, and the butterflies in his stomach were out of control. He wondered if he could digest them. Probably not, because they weren’t real. What  _were_  they, actually? Kimishita would know. Oh wait. Crap. No thinking of Kimishita– too late.

The butterflies spiked, and Ooshiba turned around to flop face-down on the mattress and kick his feet under the blanket. He still had so long until he needed to get up, and then longer until he got to see Kimishita. And then probably even longer until he got to give him the stupid chocolates, because he’d be damned if he tried to do that in front of everyone. But that meant he needed to either stalk Kimishita all day or ask him to come somewhere alone. And how was he supposed to do that without looking all weird?

Actually, how was he even supposed to hand over the chocolates? He had to say something really smooth and attractive, something that swept Kimishita right off his feet. But what? Just  _Happy Valentine’s Day_  wouldn’t cut it. He wasn’t going to Google around for pick-up lines either. No matter what Kazama said, they didn’t work; they were just corny.

Maybe he should just forego the smooth words entirely and just try to kiss him. Wait, no, never mind. Trying that on some girl might still work if she was into it, but trying it on Kimishita would only earn him a punch in the face. Ah, but then...

He rolled over again and looked at his phone. Maybe it knew something, he thought. Or maybe he was just trying to distract himself again.

The distraction worked for about two seconds until he saw the most recent text notification on his screen.

Ooshiba scrolled further down. As he had expected, there were more notifications. He tapped one of them and opened the thread to read them all in chronological order.

_WHAT HAPPENED_ , Aiba had written about an hour ago.  _did i fall asleep? holy shit its 4 am lmao_

_Did u make the chocolates on ur own? or did u crash and burn the kitchen bc i wasn’t there to help ;)_

_KIDDING KIDDING_

_soooooo... youre probably asleep rn BUT_

_the person you made yr chocolates for_

_Do i know them? ( ͡~ ͜ʖ ͡°)_

Ooshiba’s heart skipped a beat, then he narrowed his eyes. Aiba’s question was sketchy. Aiba’s emoji was even more sketchy. What was he on about? Had he somehow managed to figure out that the person he liked was Kimishita?

Well, that guy had always said weird stuff about them. Like how they should be friends or otherwise they wouldn’t win, or something. Weirdo.

_u dont_ , Ooshiba messaged back.  _fuck off_

He fully expected Aiba to be asleep by now, but after a few moments the message was marked as read. Then Aiba was shown to be typing a reply, and soon enough his response popped up on the screen.

_Whoa what are you doing awake at 5 am,_  it read.  _SOMEONES NERVOUS SOMEONES NERVOUS_

Ooshiba’s face heated up.  _im not nervous_ , he replied.  _i jst cantsleep_

A mistake, because Aiba wrote back,  _LMAO THATS LITERALLY THE SAME THING_

Ooshiba wanted to type in a furious response, but Aiba was faster.  _Anyways_ , he wrote, suddenly serious again.  _So the person yr giving chocolates to is NOT kimishita?_

The blush on his face deepened.  _WHY HTE FUCK SJOULD I GIVE CHOCOLATES TO THA T ASSHOLE_

This time there was a longer pause. Ooshiba couldn’t help wondering if Aiba didn’t know what to say or just couldn’t reply because he was laughing his head off.

_bc you two are better together,_  the reply came at last.  _remember what i said abt you losing if u dont get along?_

Ooshiba frowned. That did sound familiar. Extremely familiar. He remembered that day clearly; the parfait, Kimishita next to him, and Aiba across from them, giving them advice about Ryouzan. Get along, he had told them. Ooshiba hadn’t wanted to, back then at least. He didn’t see why they should. And it wasn’t like he could get along with Kimishita, he had told himself. He’d die before he ever tried to show any interest in that guy again, that stupid asshole who had brushed off all his attempts to show him he cared in favor of Mizuki who he couldn’t have.

Now they still weren’t really friends, but there was no Mizuki to get in between them, and they were getting along... probably better than before. Really well, actually, by their standards. So Aiba had actually got what he wanted.

...Where was he going with this?

Oh right. Losing if they didn’t get along. Better together. And Aiba apparently thought...

He stopped in his tracks. His brain malfunctioned.

Did Aiba  _want_  them to start dating?

_we already get along_ , Ooshiba wrote.  _waht do u want_

_Im saying you guys should date lmao_

Ooshiba stared at the message. Blinked. Closed the thread and opened it again. The message was still there.

His face exploded with red.

_FCUK OFF_ , he wrote with hasty fingers.  _IM NEVR GNONA DATE THAT GUY_

_REALLY? thats too bad_ , came Aiba’s reply.  _I thought u guys liked each other........_

Ooshiba was about to snap something about not liking Kimishita in the slightest when he paused and read the message again.

Then his insides exploded with butterflies.

_wh_

_wht do u mean “each other”_

His hands were shaking slightly.  _u htink he likes me???_

There was a very long pause. Then a voice message popped up on the screen. Ooshiba pressed the play button and almost had his ears blasted off by guffawing laughter.

He nearly dropped his phone. Holding it as far from his ear as he could, he frantically pressed the speaker buttons until it was bearably quiet, hoping he hadn’t woken anyone up in the process.  _HWAT THE FUCK_ , he wrote back.

_LMAOOO SORRY,_  came Aiba’s reply.  _Thats just the funniest thing ive heard all week_

_LIKE_

_The fact that u have to ask? literally ANYBODY can see it but you two_

Ooshiba did drop his phone this time.

_Anyways_ , Aiba continued while Ooshiba still struggled to make sense of his thoughts.  _Jst give him the chocolates & ask him out today! or u guys are gonna lose next time we play against each other ;)_

_I’m going back to sleep. Gnight!_

And he was gone, leaving Ooshiba staring blankly at the screen.

He was so not getting any more sleep tonight. Not after this.

Oh damn, this hadn’t helped at all. Before talking to Aiba he had been a little nervous. Right now he was dying.

Scrambling out of his bed, Ooshiba abandoned all thoughts of rest and sat down at his desk. Fine. If he wasn’t sleeping anymore, might as well go over his note again. Maybe he could still make it a little better.

\---

By the time he arrived at school, Ooshiba was almost confident again.

He had finally fixed up the note to his liking. Hoshina and Kazama had made some great suggestions last night, but in the end his gut feeling was what had really told him what to write. After all these two didn’t know Kimishita like he did. He had written the perfect note now, guaranteed to sweep Kimishita straight off his feet.

Together with the chocolates, it was bound to work. It simply had to.

Just to reaffirm himself, Ooshiba reached into his bag where the chocolates lay secured– and froze.

The chocolates weren’t there.

Ooshiba halted. Reached into his bag again, groping around. Then he turned the bag around to fully look into it, rummaging through all the compartments. At last he even began to take out his things one by one until the bag was empty. Definitely, completely, truly empty.

There was no trace of the chocolates.

His mind froze. Then it started racing. His hands grew clammy as he slowly began to panic.

The choclates weren’t there. But they had to be. He had definitely put them into his bag this morning, along with the note. So why weren’t they in his bag now? Had they fallen out on the way? Had someone stolen them? Had he been robbed? Had all his hard work been for nothing? He should call the police at once and report a chocolate thief and–

Wait a second.  _Had_  he put them into his bag?

Ooshiba furrowed his brow, trying to remember. Well, he had been sitting over his note for about an hour. Then his alarm had sounded, and he had turned it off and finished the note. Then Mikoto had knocked on the door, bugging him because he wasn’t getting up and he was going to be late for morning practice. So he had hurried up and got dressed, because he absolutely didn’t want to miss the chance to be alone with Kimishita before the others arrived. Then he had snatched his bag and picked up the chocolates and note for one last look at them, approved of his work...

...and put them back down on his desk.

Where they still remained, long after he had left the house.

What now?

Ooshiba’s mind raced even faster. Should he rush back to his house and pick them up? He glanced at his watch. No, no, too late. If he turned back now, he’d be late for practice and miss out on his time alone with Kimishita—no, worse than that, he’d make a horrible impression and get himself yelled at. But there was also not much of a point to being alone together if he didn’t have the stupid chocolates! How on earth was he supposed to catch him alone later? They weren’t even in the same class!

Maybe someone could bring them–

A lightbulb went on inside his brain. He had morning practice, so he had already left. Mikoto, however, didn’t have practice before classes. So she left later than him. So she still had to be home.

It did pain him to no end to have to ask this of her, because he knew full well he’d never live it down. But there was no helping it. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

So he pulled out his phone and called Mikoto’s number.

It rang a few times. Ooshiba tapped his foot in impatient.  _Don’t you dare not pick up, stupid Sis,_  he thought. This was a time-sensitive emergency.

Then, finally, after what felt like an eternity, there was a click in the line, and then Mikoto’s voice. “Hello, Kiichi?”

“Sis!” Ooshiba almost yelled into the speaker. “Are you still at home?”

There was a moment of hesitation, as if Mikoto was confused by his urgent tone. “Of course I am,” she said. “I’m leaving in twenty minutes, don’t you know th–”

“Leave sooner.”

“What?”

“Leave sooner,” Ooshiba repeated, more urgently this time. “And bring me something I forgot at home. It’s an emergency.”

“That’s so demanding,” Mikoto replied irritably. “Why should I rush? I’m trying to make myself look good today, you know!”

“It’s an emergency!” Ooshiba said again. “I can’t go back and get it, I’m gonna be late!” He huffed. “You just wanna look good to impress Mizuki today, right?”

Mikoto’s tone turned smug. “Actually, I don’t! I got over that crush.”

Ooshiba blinked; that was the first time he heard of that. “Then who’re you trying to look good for today?” he asked. “It better be fucking important!”

“Kiichi, language!”

“Fuck you!”

“Are you trying to make me do you a favor or not?”

“Shut up!”

“Oh yeah? I can just hang up! I’m hanging up, Kiichi!”

“No! Just tell me who you wanna impress, okay?”

Mikoto groaned, then her voice turned flustered. “It’s Kasahara-kun,” she admitted. “I’m seeing him after school. Happy now?”

Ooshiba was more baffled than happy, though he also made a mental note to tease her about her crush whenever she got too annoying. But he quickly bounced back. “If you see him after school, you don’t gotta dress up now!”

“I can’t dress up  _at_  school, okay?” Mikoto shot back in exasperation. “Anyway, what’s so important you’re bugging me about that?”

“Chocolate.”

There was a baffled pause. “What?”

“Valentine’s chocolate,” Ooshiba replied, both embarrassed and impatient. “I forgot it on my desk. I need it.”

This time the pause was longer, and Ooshiba cringed, already preparing himself for the full onslaught of teasing. “Oh?” Mikoto chimed at last. “Is my little brother giving chocolates too? Who is it, hmm?”

Ooshiba flushed. “Nobody.”

“Then there’s no need for me to bring them,” Mikoto answered lightly.

“Fine! Somebody!” Ooshiba shouted in a haste. “But I’m not telling you who!”

“Then I’m not bringing the chocolates!”

“Fuck off! This is blackmail!”

“I can still hang up, Kiichi...”

Ooshiba gritted his teeth. This wouldn’t do. He needed Mikoto’s help, but there was no way in hell he was telling her who his crush was. So there had to be some other way. Some way to convince her without outing himself.

What would Kimishita do?

Wait. Kimishita... he had just had an idea. An idea that had worked before. And if it had worked on Kimishita, it would hopefully also work on his demon of an older sister.

“Sis,” he exclaimed, putting aside his pride, “please!”

There was a moment’s silence.

“Kiichi,” Mikoto said, “did you just...?”

“Please bring me the chocolates,” Ooshiba begged. “And please don’t look at the note that’s on them! Please, Sis!”

“Wow,” Mikoto said in amusement, “you must really like that person. First you get them chocolates, and now you’re begging me?” She sounded so smug that Ooshiba almost regretted it. “Okay. But you take over my chores for a week.”

Under normal circumstances Ooshiba would have thrown a fit and complained about blackmail, but right now he was too desperate to care. “Deal,” he said. “Hurry up, Sis!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Mikoto sighed, but it came out half amused. “Seriously, with the trouble you cost me, you and that person better get married someday. And make me a bridesmaid!”

The image of Kimishita in a suit popped up in Ooshiba’s head, his hair tamed and elegant, a white tie around his neck, his green eyes matching the details of the wedding decor behind him as he smiled and took Ooshiba’s hand. He blinked, and the image disappeared. Damn it. He wished it could be real.

“I’m gonna try,” he said and actually meant it. “Bye, Sis.”

\---

Mikoto still made it before morning practice started, but of course it was too late to catch Kimishita alone in the club room.

Hiding the chocolates deep inside his bag, Ooshiba entered the room, trying not to look as disgruntled about the whole thing as he felt. So he hadn’t managed to give Kimishita the chocolates before practice, fine. This was no reason to get frustrated. He still had a plan B.

And a plan C, D and E, though he hoped it wouldn’t come to that. Well, not really plans. He had just made a mental list of all the times he would probably be alone with Kimishita and get a chance to give him the stupid chocolates.

For now, though, he was trying very hard to stay focused on soccer and not Valentine’s Day gifts. With... mixed results. Even when he wasn’t trying to think of ways to tell Kimishita he liked him (or otherwise justify the gift, because truth be told, he didn’t  _really_  feel ready to tell him), he couldn’t help but think of the others. Kazama, as far as he could tell, was acting normal. Ooshiba had no idea if that meant he had already given Tsukamoto the chocolates or not; maybe he was nervous too but very, very good at bluffing. Hoshina obviously wasn’t here, though he had arranged to meet Ubukata after school. If Ubukata herself had anything prepared for him (or anyone, for that matter), she wouldn’t let it show.

Ooshiba was so lost in thought that he narrowly dodged the ball flying straight at his face.

“Hello,  _Captain_! Spacing out much?” Kimishita’s voice came yelling across the pitch. “Don’t just fucking stand there when you could’ve hit that one and scored!”

Ooshiba stared at him, then at the ball and finally at the goal. Kimishita was right, he realized. From his position, with this few guys around him, he could have made an easy header. But for some reason he hadn’t even noticed the ball.

On a normal day he would have yelled back, but today he bit his tongue. He couldn’t risk annoying Kimishita any more. So he just shuffled his feet, awkwardly raking a hand through his hair as he forced out yet another word that was completely out of character for him.

“Sorry,” he grumbled. “I’m gonna get the next one.”

Kimishita gave him an odd look. Then he marched over and placed a hand on his shoulder as he passed by him to get the ball. “Everything okay?” he asked in a hushed voice. “You’re being weird.”

A series of emotions shot through Ooshiba too fast to register them all, but he managed to nod. “Yup,” he said. “I’m fine.”

Green eyes met with his own. For a moment that felt like a lifetime, they were both just staring at each other, unblinking.

“Whatever,” Kimishita muttered at last, turning away. “I’ll believe you for now. But if anything’s bothering you, feel free to tell me.”

Ooshiba spun around. A surge of butterflies flew up in his stomach as his heart gave a lurch in his chest. But Kimishita had already passed by him, picking up the ball and marching back across the pitch, not meeting his eyes. He looked perfectly casual again, as if he hadn’t said anything out of the ordinary. At least that was what his body language revealed. What his face was saying, Ooshiba couldn’t see.

His chest felt warm. Kimishita cared, he thought. Kimishita had done something Ooshiba had never expected him to do and offered him support. He had never seen Kimishita do that for anyone before. At least not so openly and explicitly.

A big goofy smile spread all over his face. Did that mean he was special?

As if on cue, Kimishita glanced up to look at him again, and Ooshiba hid his smile with great difficulty. That was close. He couldn’t space out again or he’d get himself yelled at again, for real this time.

But damn it, he wanted to kiss him.

Except, no, wait, he couldn’t. Yet, anyway. First things first he had to give him the goddamn chocolates. And the note. Preferably the chocolates  _with_  the note, because otherwise things would become a little confusing. And embarrassing. A lot embarrassing, actually. Thank goodness he knew for sure that he had both in his bag; he had double-checked for the note when Mikoto had brought him the chocolates.

So now he had to wait.

And then...

Then, hopefully, he would be a huge step closer to his happily ever after.

\---

“Psst! Kiichiman!”

Pausing, the captain glanced over his shoulder and stepped aside to where Kazama was waving him over. His eyes were already darting back towards Kimishita as he replied, “What?”

Kazama could already guess his answer from his behavior, but he asked anyway. “Have you given you-know-who the you-know-what yet?”

Kiichiman blinked, and a stupid grin crept up on Kazama’s face. “That kinda makes it sound weirder than it is.”

“Nope,” Kiichiman replied, looking and sounding frustrated but not yet hopeless. “I forgot them at home this morning. Sis had to bring them.”

“You for— Kiichiman, dude, are you okay?” Kazama wasn’t sure if he should yell at him or burst out laughing, but of course the laughter won. “You sure you can handle this?”

Kiichiman lifted his chin in pride. “Sure.”

“Your hands are shaking,” Kazama remarked.

He stuck them into his pockets. “They’re not shaking.”

“Dude, they’re totally shaking.” Kazama gave a lopsided grin. “You gonna need help with that, man? Like maybe some way to get him alone?”

Kiichiman’s eyes lit up at that, but he shook his head. “Nope. I got this.”

“Then maybe just put it into his desk or locker or something? I mean, dude, you signed the note, he’s gonna know it’s from you. And it’s less easy to screw up.”

There was a long pause. Kazama could practically see the gears moving and rattling in Kiichiman’s brain.

“But in person is better,” he said at last.

“Why?”

“It’s more romantic.”

Kazama stared. Kiichiman stared back, then it dawned on him what he had just said, and he turned as red as his hair.

“Good luck with that, bro,” Kazama said, laughing. “You wanna try telling that to the least romantic person in the whole wide world? That weirdo’s less romantic than Kimishita-kun’s fashion sense!”

Kimishita glanced over at the mention of his name, and Kazama instantly sobered up. “Nothing, nothing!” he shouted over. “We’re not talking about you. Carry on!”

He didn’t hope it would work, but to his relief Kimishita actually did shrug and turn away. Kazama and Kiichiman both visibly relaxed. Thank goodness. If Kimishita had asked them what they were talking about, Kazama would’ve had no idea what to say.

“Anyway,” Kazama said, “just leave it in his desk or something. I’d still dig it if I were him.”

Kiichiman looked undecided, but more inclined than he had been a few moments ago. Then a thought flashed across his face, and he glanced around as if to make sure no one was listening. “Have you given yours to Tsukamoto yet?”

The dreaded question.

“No,” Kazama groaned, almost slumping over. “I can’t find the right moment. I’m hoping to get him alone, but...”

Kiichiman shrugged. “Just put it in his desk too.”

“No! I don’t have a note like you,” Kazama replied. “How’s he gonna know it’s me?”

“Write one.”

“On school notebook paper? In pencil?” Kazama stared at him in disbelief. “Tsukushi deserves better than that and you know it.”

“Hm.”

“Hm.”

Awkward silence. Kiichiman scratched the back of his head. Kazama shuffled his feet.

“So,” he said at last, breaking the silence, “you need to sneak your chocolates into Kimishita-kun’s desk or locker. And I need to catch Tsukushi alone.”

He looked up. Kiichiman’s eyes were those of someone who shared his suffering.

“I help you,” Kiichiman said, speaking out both their thoughts. “You help me.”

Kazama grinned. He was still panicking a great deal, but at the same time a big weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

“Okay!” he said. “The mission is on!”


	14. Good Will and No Wisdom

The classroom door opened, and not too far away two heads poked around the corner in quick succession. Hovering next to the wall, they stared for a moment at the open door, then they disappeared as quickly as they had come.

If anyone had been around to peek around their corner, they would have seen a curious image after the heads’ disappearance. In front they would have found first-year legend Kazama Jin, still peeking carefully towards the door. Behind him they would have found the captain of the Seiseki soccer club doubling over and coughing, his arms crossed protectively over the spot where he had just been elbowed in the gut.

“Kiichiman, no peeking,” Kazama whispered over his shoulder. “That’s my job, remember?”

Ooshiba coughed and groaned. “That’s no reason to hit me, asshole!”

“Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to hit you that hard,” Kazama said, glancing back at him and grinning stupidly, though Ooshiba couldn’t quite tell how serious he was being. “Now stay back. I’m gonna tell you when Kimishita-kun leaves the room.”

Ooshiba scowled at him; he still didn’t like that part of the plan. “You’re not even looking ahead,” he snapped. “You’re a shit spy.”

Blinking sheepishly, Kazama spun back around to peek around the corner again. “Still nothing,” he muttered. “Just a whole bunch of other second-years. Ah, there’s Mucchan-senpai. Whoa, I think he actually got chocolates!” He laughed to himself. “But still no Kimishita-kun.”

Ooshiba remained silent, tapping his foot in impatience.

“More people,” Kazama continued his report. “Oh hey, that girl’s kind of a babe. I might've just gone and talked to her, but she’s got nothing on Tsukushi. More guys from our team. More random people.” Kazama yawned. “Still no Kimishita-kun. And no Suzuki-senpai either. They’re in the same class, right?”

Ooshiba nodded. “Yup.”

“Then they’ve gotta be in there somewhere. And they should come out. Ah, hey, that could be—nope, that’s some random guy. C’mon, Kimishita-kun, we’re just asking you to come out of the classroom, not the closet!”

Now Kazama was getting impatient too. “Now that’s just weird,” he muttered. “Aren’t Kimishita-kun and Suzuki-senpai those guys who show up to everything early? They should already be out of the classroom. What are they still doing in there?”

An unbidden image flashed up in Ooshiba’s head, one that involved these two and chocolate, secret words and secret kisses meant for no one but each other. He gritted his teeth, pushing down the flare of anger at Eita. That lucky bastard, ending up in the same class as Kimishita like that. How dared he steal his crush and vice-captain away like that?

“People have stopped leaving the classroom,” Kazama’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. “But I haven’t seen Kimishita-kun or Suzuki-senpai. Wanna risk it anyway?”

The image in Ooshiba’s head intensified, and he clenched his fist in gleeful spite at the thought of interrupting their moment. “Let’s go.”

Carefully on Kazama’s end, less so on Ooshiba’s, they made their way over to the classroom door and peeked inside.

The room was empty.

Ooshiba blinked, looking right and left. Then he stooped down to look under the desks. He checked behind the teacher’s desk and even in the broom closet. No trace of anyone. Especially not Kimishita.

“O...kay,” Kazama said into the silence of the room. “This is weird.”

Ooshiba narrowed his eyes at him, suddenly irritated. “You sure you didn’t see him come out?”

“As sure as I’ve ever been, Kiichiman,” Kazama replied. He pursed his lips for a moment, thinking, then he added, “You’re sure this is the right classroom, right?”

Ooshiba nodded with utmost confidence. Only to doubt himself mere seconds later. Was it really? It was, right?

“Which class is Kimishita-kun in again?”

“2-A,” Ooshiba answered without hesitation.

“ _Kiichiman_.”

Ooshiba blinked. There was something very odd about Kazama’s voice. Something very tired. No, very... exasperated?

“This is 2-B’s classroom.” Kazama gave him a thousand-yard stare. “We’ve been waiting in front of the wrong room all along.”

Ooshiba’s mouth dropped open. The wrong classroom? But that was... no way, no way, that couldn’t be. He knew where Kimishita’s classroom was. He’d been there a zillion times before. Straight down the hallway where his classroom lay, and then...

...turn left. Oh yeah.

He and Kazama had turned right.

“ _Shit_.”

“Tell me about it!” Kazama was wearing that grin he always wore when there was trouble and he had the vague sense that he was screwed. “Crap, what do we do now?”

Ooshiba jumped up, almost tripping over desks and chairs. “To the right room—”

A gong cut him off, and he skidded to a stop.

“Well, that’s it for the break,” Kazama said, looking torn between laughter and stressed-out exasperation. “Let’s run back to our classrooms before we’re late!”

“But the chocolates!” Ooshiba shot back.

“Try again after this class! Or in lunch break! Or whenever!” Kazama was already running back towards the first-year classrooms. “Just don’t screw it up again, okay? You’re stealing my precious Tsukushi time!”

Ooshiba didn’t get to respond before he disappeared around the corner and was gone. The hallway was silent and empty. All classroom doors were closed. He was alone.

He was definitely going to be late to his next class, he thought. But he didn’t want to leave like this either, without having done anything. Maybe Kimishita’s classroom was empty too right now. Definitely worth checking.

So, as quietly as he could, he crept across the hallway and up to 2-A’s door. It was closed, but that didn’t have to mean anything. Carefully, carefully, he pressed his ear against it and listened.

The classroom was silent. No teacher talking, no scribbling pens or turning pages. He pushed the door a crack open and ventured a look.

The classroom was indeed empty.

_Jackpot._

Now he just needed to leave the chocolates in Kimishita’s desk. Kimishita’s desk... which one was that again?

He definitely had a window seat, Ooshiba knew that. And he sat... not quite at the front, more towards the middle. Third row. Yeah, third row. That one right there!

Crouching, he peeked into it as he carefully placed the chocolates inside. The desk was empty; no other Valentine’s Day gifts yet. He breathed a sigh of relief. That would make Ooshiba’s gift all the more special. Especially since the guy sitting in front of him had got a whole bunch.

_Yup, that’ll do._  Rising to his feet, Ooshiba admired his work, then he turned around and sneaked out of the classroom. He was so going to get in trouble for being late. But it was definitely worth it.

\---

At lightning speed Kazama turned the last corner and darted into the classroom half a second before the teacher did.

Breathing hard, he collapsed into his seat, flopping forward on the desk in a mixture of relief and frustration. Relief, because he had made it back in time before getting in trouble. Frustration, because he had lost all the precious minutes between classes that he would normally have used to talk to Tsukushi.

The very same Tsukushi who was now looking at him with questioning blue eyes, making him feel like an idiot.

“Don’t worry about it,” he whispered as the teacher set up her bag and books at the front of the class. “I just had to take care of something and it took a bit long. Whew, that was close.”

Totally not suspicious, he knew. Especially since he would normally always tell Tsukushi what exactly he had been doing instead of being so vague and weird. But what was he supposed to do? Tell the truth?  _Sorry I disappeared, I had to help Kiichiman give Kimishita-kun his Valentine’s Day chocolates?_

_And we didn’t even make it so now I gotta help him again after next class?_

Well... it was an option. But Kiichiman probably wouldn’t appreciate being outed like that. And that would still leave the question why Kazama was helping him at all when they weren’t even that close.

Oh crap, would that seem like he was choosing Kiichiman over Tsukushi? It wouldn’t, right? Tsukushi wasn’t the type to think that... right?

_Yeah, good thing I didn’t say it._

“Don’t worry about it,” he mouthed again and tried to smile. “It’s not really a big deal.”

Tsukushi returned his smile, but it looked confused and a little forced. But before he could say anything, the teacher cleared her throat, greeted the class and cut off their conversation for the time being.

\---

“Kiichiman, wait a sec.”

Ooshiba paused, blinking back at Kazama. They were halfway towards Kimishita’s classroom again, just to check if he had already found the chocolates, but apparently Kazama had a problem.

“The chocolates,” Kazama said, pointing at Ooshiba’s empty hands. “How’re you gonna give them to him if you don’t even have them?”

Ooshiba stared at him in incomprehension. “I don’t have them anymore.”

“What do you mean, you don’t have them?” Kazama’s face twitched asymmetrically as several emotions vied for dominance over his face. “Are you saying you lost them or something?”

“Nope.” Ooshiba’s confusion grew. “Kimishita has them.”

“He what?”

“He has them,” Ooshiba repeated, then he paused, blinking in puzzlement. Wait a second. “Oh,” he said. “Right. I haven’t told you. I put them in his desk after you left.”

“And you’re telling me that now? Dude, you don’t even need my help anymore!” Kazama burst out laughing. “Okay, fine, then I’m going back! Later, Kiichiman!”

“Wait.”

Ooshiba’s hand darted out, snatching him back by the shoulder. “Come with me anyway,” he said stiffly. “I wanna see if he saw it already.”

Kazama sighed.

“Dude,” he said, his amusement fading into exhaustion. “Just go visit him yourself, you’re captain and vice-captain. If I trail along for no reason it’s just gonna look suspicious.”

He had a point, Ooshiba realized. A very good one.

Besides, it wasn’t like he was scared of going to Kimishita’s classroom on his own or anything. What was he, some kind of chicken? Of course not. His knees were just shaky because... something else. He had no idea what. What was he, a doctor or something?

With a huff he let go of Kazama’s shoulder and started off towards Kimishita’s classroom alone.

Totally nonchalant, he told himself as he walked. He was just dropping by because... because he just happened to be around. Right. Just a captain visiting his vice-captain. Nothing weird about it.

Then he walked in through the door and bounced back like he had hit a glass wall.

Kimishita was sitting at his desk, talking with some others Ooshiba didn’t recognize... and munching on chocolates.

Chocolates that most definitely weren’t from Ooshiba.

“Kimishita!” he burst out, barging into the room, all pretenses forgotten. “Where the fuck did you get those chocolates, you asshole!”

Kimishita looked up, recognition passing over his face as he scowled, a half-eaten chocolate still in one hand. “Don’t ask me!” he shot back. “Girls, probably. Found them in my desk.”

Ooshiba couldn’t believe it. Where had all those things come from? Before this class his desk had still been completely empty!

These cowardly little brats. Had they really only had the guts to give him their chocolates after Ooshiba had set an example by putting his in first?

“Asshole!” he yelled again, stomping past the group to lunge at Kimishita’s collar and shake him. “You shouldn’t have all these chocolates! Since when the fuck are you popular?”

“Don’t ask me! Stop shaking me, idiot!” With an effort Kimishita yanked himself free. “Maybe you’d have gotten some chocolates too if you weren’t so fucking stupid!”

“I did get some!” Ooshiba said furiously, and it was true; there had been several in his desk and locker, though none from Kimishita. “But that’s cause I’m popular! You’re a nerd, you shouldn’t be popular!”

“Well, I’m sorry I use my head and mind my manners!”

“You don’t even want a girlfriend! Don’t accept the chocolates if you’re just gonna reject them, ungrateful bastard!”

“It’s free food! Only a complete idiot would say no to that!”

“Did you hear that?” Ooshiba turned towards the class, particularly towards the girls. “This is the guy you gave chocolate to! He’d be a shit boyfriend! He doesn’t have a romantic bone in his body!”

Kimishita went pink. “Listen—”

“So...” Turning back around, Ooshiba stared at his desk, hoping he didn’t look too suspicious. “How many did you get, huh?”

“Not that many.” Kimishita pulled a chocolate box, a pack of cookies and a small boxed cupcake out of his desk. “Just these three and the one I’m eating.”

Some of the guys around him groaned. “ _Just_  four? Talk about humblebragging, Kimishita!”

Kimishita scowled at them. “You’ve never seen some of my teammates. They need to carry extra bags for this bullshit and eat so much they bitch about a stomachache at practice.”

Ooshiba didn’t listen to their conversation. His mind had gone blank. There had been several Valentine’s Day gifts in Kimishita’s desk, but his chocolates weren’t among them.

How was that possible?

His mind raced. He had definitely put them in Kimishita’s desk. They hadn’t fallen out either; there was no trace of them on the ground. What then? Had someone stolen them? Who could possibly play this dirty—

He stopped short.

Under the desk right behind Kimishita’s he could see a glimpse of a familiar package.

And a note.

_Oh shit._

Come to think of it, which row was Kimishita sitting in right now? He counted in his head. One, two, three—

Wait, no. Two. Kimishita’s seat was in the second row.

Not the third.

And he had put his chocolates in the desk belonging to the guy behind him.

What now?

Panic took hold of him. This was bad. He needed to get the chocolates back. But how? It wasn’t like he could just casually reach into the desk and take them out, especially right in front of Kimishita! He had to snatch them at some other point. Right, wait till the classroom was empty again and then take them out like he had put them in. Easy peasy. Now he just had to hope the guy behind Kimishita wouldn’t notice them until—

“Guys, look at this!”

So much for that.

The guy who had just popped up at the desk of destiny looked completely unremarkable, so unremarkable that Ooshiba wouldn’t remember his face even if he had to see him every day. In short, he looked like a complete extra.

An extra who, unfortunately, had just spotted the chocolates that were not for him.

“Someone left chocolates in my desk!” he exclaimed, excitedly waving over his equally unremarkable-looking friends. “Nobody’s ever done that before!”

No wonder, Ooshiba thought. Girls probably routinely forgot this guy existed.

In dismay he stood and watched as the entire group of extras crowded around the desk, gawking in wonder at  _his_  chocolates. This was bad. This was really bad. How was he supposed to get them back now? Did he have to sneak them out of the desk when the extras weren’t looking? Sneak them out of his bag or his locker? He wasn’t a thief. But he was also very desperate, and what did they say about desperate times?

“Wow, these look handmade,” the extra remarked in awe, and a bit of pride sparked in Ooshiba’s chest. “Someone must’ve tried really hard!”

“Maybe it’s a prank,” said one of the friends. He was better looking than the rest of the extras; Ooshiba suspected he got chocolates more regularly than his friends.

“Don’t be a jerk!” snapped another friend. “You’re just jealous ‘cause you’re not the only one to get chocolates anymore!”

The third extra peeked over the first one’s shoulder. “Why don’t you taste them?”

“ _No!_ ”

They all stared at Ooshiba. Including, he realized, Kimishita and the guys around his desk.

What now?

“Uh...” Quick, an excuse, he needed an excuse! “You can’t eat those yet,” he babbled blindly. “‘Cause... ‘cause... right! It’s not lunch break! You’re not allowed to eat yet!” He turned triumphantly to face Kimishita. “That counts for you too, Kimishita-kun!”

There, he had used the honorific. That meant Kimishita wouldn’t think anything of it, except that he was messing with him again. Good. It was the smartest, least suspicious thing he could have done.

Kimishita’s eye twitched, and he scowled in familiar irritation. “Ah?” he growled. “Since when do  _you_  lecture  _me_  about rules, huh?”

“You’re the one who says that shit’s important!” Ooshiba crossed his arms and gave him a smug face. “Practice what you preach!”

“Shut up, idiot! I’m hungry!”

“Oh yeah? I bet you didn’t eat breakfast again!”

Kimishita gave a jolt. “Listen—”

“A-ha! I caught you!” Ooshiba pointed a triumphant finger at him. “I told you not to go without breakfast, asshole! Captain’s orders!”

“You shut up! I’m not listening to someone whose fridge is always full!”

“What, were you out of food or something?”

Kimishita went pink. “That’s—”

“Just tell me next time, moron!” Ooshiba crossed his arms again, pouting. “I can bring you food.”

“Like I’d ask you for food like some beggar!”

“How ‘bout you ask for food like a friend, asshole!”

“What?”

“What?”

They both stared at each other in disbelief. Then they both turned away from each other and glowered in different directions, suddenly very awkward.

“Anyway, just ask,” Ooshiba muttered at last. “You can’t go to school hungry. It’s not healthy. My mom always yells at me when I try to do that.”

Kimishita clicked his tongue. “I get it!”

“So ask me,” Ooshiba went on. “Or just drop by. If you go hungry again I’m gonna kick your ass.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

Pause.

“Thanks, Kiichi.”

Another awkward silence. The extra shuffled his feet, suddenly uncomfortable himself, as if sensing... whatever it was that was suddenly between them. “So...” he said. “I guess I’ll just eat the chocolates over lunch break, or something?”

Ooshiba spun around, glad to have an excuse to get away from the weird, awkward situation with Kimishita. “Very good,” he said, patting the guy’s shoulder. “Do that. Good idea.”

Behind him Kimishita grumbled something unintelligible, stuffing his chocolates back into his desk with a rustle. “Fine, I’m sticking to the rules, moron,” he said. “You better treat me at lunch because now it’s your fault I’m fucking starving.”

Ooshiba grinned at him over his shoulder. “You better already decide what you’re gonna get!”

The gong interrupted him, and he nearly jumped. Crap, he was going to be late for his next class too. And probably about to get kicked out of this classroom when the teacher came in.

Sprinting out of the classroom, he darted through the hallways back to his own class. But even when he had narrowly made it in before the teacher, his mind was still racing.

So the extra had the chocolates now, okay.

And he wouldn’t eat them until lunch break, hopefully.

So that meant he had to get his hands on the chocolates before then. Especially since he now had a lunch date with Kimishita scheduled.

That left him... not a whole lot of time.

Very little time, actually.

To be precise, a grand total of one short break between classes.

This was bad.

He needed to come up with a plan, right this instant. A very good plan, a master plan so to speak. An absolute genius strategy.

Oh wait, he already had one.

\---

Kazama’s phone buzzed in his pocket.

Grimacing, he looked around, trying to make sure nobody had noticed. Not because he was scared of getting in trouble with the teacher—teachers had all given up on him long ago anyway, and he didn’t care about another scolding—but because Tsukushi was still sitting next to him and would probably wonder why on earth he was looking at his phone in the middle of class.

But Tsukushi hadn’t noticed. He was dutifully scribbling away in his notebook, and so Kazama ventured a glance.

It was a message from Kiichiman. Of course it was.

_KAZAMA_ , it read. All caps. Uh-oh.

_wassup captain_ , he replied.  _didja give him the chocolates? ;)_

He had a vague feeling that the answer would be no, but it didn’t hurt to be optimistic.

Kiichiman typed. For a very long time.

Bad news, Kazama thought. He just hoped Kiichiman hadn’t screwed the whole chocolate business up entirely.

Actually, no, he definitely had. The question was just how easy it was to do damage control.

Then Kiichiman’s message appeared, and Kazama’s jaw dropped.

_I FUCJING TRIED bt i did it lsat break when the classroom was empty and igot the desks mixdup and now some extra hasmychocolates_

Kazama read the message thrice. Then he stared.

_y. you did wh_

_IT WASNT MY FAULT_ , came Kiichiman’s reply.

_K I I C H I M A N_

_ISAID IT WASNT!_

If he hadn’t been in the middle of class, Kazama would have slammed his forehead on his desk in exasperation.

_dude_ , he wrote instead.  _what did you DO_

Kiichiman started typing again, and Kazama quickly backtracked.  _wait nvm tell me that later,_  he wrote.  _for now. how bad is the situation?_

There was a pause in which he could only imagine Kiichiman furiously backspacing what he had started to write, and then he typed again for a prolonged amount of time. Kazama swallowed. This sounded like trouble.

_im not giving u any of my Tsukushi chocolates lmao_ , he messaged just for good measure.

Mere seconds later Kiichiman’s reply showed up at last.

_he hasnt eaten htem yet bt hesaid hes gnona eat them at lnch break so we hv to take them back before that_

_so nxt break_

Next break. Next very short break between classes.

And they had to do what, exactly? Whisk a box of chocolates away from a guy who had already noticed them, without being accused of theft and ending up in huge trouble?

Cool. Fantastic. Easy peasy.

Not.

With slight panic Kazama glanced over at Tsukushi, who was still busy taking notes. Another break in which he would have to disappear under mysterious circumstances, another break where he couldn’t talk to Tsukushi. They had barely exchanged a word since this morning. Would Kiichiman’s chocolate chaos ever stop? He still needed to hand over his own chocolates himself!

This called for a plan. A very good plan.

_okay_ , he wrote after some thinking.  _i think i got something. DONT botch this okay?_

Truth be told, he wasn’t very confident about that part.

\---

It wasn’t a thought Tsukushi liked to have, but the way Kazama was acting today was really beginning to frustrate him.

He had been normal this morning and throughout practice, but right afterwards he had disappeared on him. Only to magically return one second before their first class started, looking sheepish and a little ruffled but not explaining where he had been so long or what he had been doing. After that class he had vanished again, with the same results. And then last break he had left in a hurry, returned before class began for a change, and then frantically started texting in the middle of class.

And throughout all that he had still not dropped a single word about where he was disappearing to. Tsukushi didn’t like it. It wasn’t Kazama’s style to do that. Normally he would have some kind of explanation; if anything he’d be happy to chatter on about the reason that kept dragging him out of the classroom, preferably with a bunch of jokes and mocking impressions of people. If he suddenly didn’t talk about it at all, something had to be wrong.

Tsukushi wouldn’t pry, of course, but it didn’t keep him from worrying. Was Kazama okay? Was everyone else okay? He’d tell him if something serious was up... right?

He hoped so. Kazama had seemed to trust him a great deal from the beginning, but in the past few months they had become closer than ever. Kazama would trust him with something serious. At least he really hoped he would.

So what was it, then? What did Kazama not want him to find out? Was he planning something? Or...

Tsukushi glanced at the date. Valentine’s Day. Kazama’s constant disappearances didn’t have anything to do with that, did they?

Abruptly their sleepover came back to mind, the time he had called Kazama for his turn for the bath and found him beaming at his phone screen with the most adoring eyes, only to have that smile fade when he saw him. Was the reason he had smiled like that back then connected with his behavior today? Was that why he kept popping in and out of the classroom?

Was Kazama in love?

And if yes, with who?

And why hadn’t he told Tsukushi about it, his own best friend?

Tsukushi glanced at his bag. Buried underneath his books, he knew, lay a box of friendship chocolates.

But now he couldn’t help wondering if it was really okay to give them to Kazama today.


	15. C for Chocolates, C for Chicken

“Okay, so you got it?” Kazama said as they lurked around the corner from the fated classroom. “If they’re in there—”

“—we act like we need to ask Kimishita a question and sneak out the chocolates when nobody’s looking,” Ooshiba repeated their plan faithfully. They had only gone over this twice or so.

“Good,” Kazama said. “And if they’re not?”

“We just take the chocolates and go.”

“Bingo.” Kazama gave him a thumbs-up. “Ready?”

Ooshiba nodded.

“Ready, set... go!”

With deliberate nonchalance they turned the corner and walked towards the classroom. Ooshiba tried to whistle until Kazama elbowed him in the ribs. After that he pulled out his phone and pretended to be looking at something extremely important, like... the time or something.

The door was open, which was a good enough sign. The classroom was also quiet, which was an even better sign. Though not as much of a good sign as finding it empty and deserted.

Kazama whistled, nonchalantly closing the door behind them. “Lucky,” he said. “Looks like they got a class in another room next. Probably science or home ec or gym or something. Now we just gotta make sure nobody sees us creeping around in other people’s classrooms.”

They looked around. Kazama turned to Ooshiba. “Which one’s the right desk?”

Ooshiba counted from the front row. This time he didn’t make any mistakes. “That one,” he said confidently.

He and Kazama hurried towards it, peeking into the desk. And both simultaneously froze.

It was empty. The chocolates were gone.

“Don’t panic, Kiichiman,” Kazama said as he crawled under the desk to search the floor too, for good measure. “You sure you got the right desk this time? No more mix-ups?”

“I am sure,” Ooshiba shot back, but he still checked the other desks for good measure. Sure enough, there was Kimishita’s right in front of it, still stuffed with the chocolates from earlier, but Ooshiba’s weren’t among them. They’d had the right desk for sure.

What they also had now was a problem.

Ooshiba stared at Kazama. Kazama stared at Ooshiba. Neither of them had the faintest idea what to do.

“Uh...” Kazama said at last. “D’you have any clue what class they have right now?”

Ooshiba thought long and hard, but he came up blank. He didn’t think anyone had ever told him Kimishita’s class schedule at all.

“Nope,” he said. “Can’t remember.”

“Yeah, we’re screwed. There’s no way we’re gonna find them in time now.”

Ooshiba paled. Panic rose up inside him. “But we gotta!”

“Maybe just take ‘em at the beginning of lunch break?” Kazama gave a frustrated shrug. “Or, ya know, just take the guy aside and tell him you misplaced the chocolates and you want them back. Problem solved.”

Ooshiba thought about that for a good moment. He was almost desperate to try it now. Emphasis on  _almost_.

“Nope,” he said.

“Kiichiman—”

“Nope!” Ooshiba repeated. “How am I gonna catch him without Kimishita? We got a lunch date later.”

“That just makes it easier! Pretend you’re picking him up or something, easy peasy.”

“No.”

Kazama sighed.

“Y’know what,” he said, “I’m out of ideas. Figure something out yourself, or like... ask Hoshina-san or something. I still got my own chocolates to worry about.” He walked to the door. “Later.”

Ooshiba stumbled after him. “Kazama, what the fu—”

“Bye-bye!” Kazama replied, waved, and left him standing in the middle of the classroom.

Okay,  _now_  he was panicking.

“Kazama, wait!” he shouted after him, scrambling over desks and chairs. “Asshole! Don’t just run off after—ow!”

He tripped over a chair and landed on the floor with a thud. Kazama was gone. He was left to deal with things on his own.

And just at that very moment the bell rang.

Ooshiba was doomed.

\---

Kazama had just barely made it in time for class again. Not as much of a close call as the last few times, but late enough not to get in any conversation with Tsukushi beyond a lopsided grin before the teacher started the class. This was starting to get on his nerves for real. He hadn’t talked to him at all since this morning, how much longer was it supposed to continue like this?

Oh well, Kiichiman could deal with his problem alone now. Kazama was out of ways to help. Which wasn’t to say he had helped much in the first place, admittedly, but how much could he even do if Kiichiman screwed up the very simplest instructions?

That just left him and Tsukushi now.

He glanced over at Tsukushi, but his best friend didn’t return the gaze. He was staring down at his hands, his blue eyes clouded over, his brow furrowed in obvious worry. Kazama mentally slapped himself. He knew that look: something was bothering Tsukushi, and he hadn’t been here between classes to see what was wrong and support him.

Okay, this was enough. This was it. From now on he was sticking with him again, like he should.

And figuring out how on earth to give him those chocolates. And what to say when he did.

...He figured he would deal with those questions later.

Class continued on, but Tsukushi’s expression didn’t change. He didn’t even seem to be listening much. He was still staring at nothing, his brows knitted together, his mouth pulled into a tight frown, his eyes focused inward in deep, worried thought.

A large part of Kazama wanted to lean over and ask him in a whisper if he was okay. Or at least slip him a note or something. The more reasonable part told him to wait. If it was something important or personal, the middle of class, where they could easily be interrupted by the teacher, definitely wasn’t the best time to discuss it.

So he sighed and resigned himself to waiting.

But in the break, he thought. In the break he would definitely bother him about it.

\---

By the time lunch break arrived, Ooshiba was a mess of raw nerves.

He still didn’t have the chocolates back. He had no idea if he had the slightest chance of ever retrieving them. Certainly not whole, without some of them eaten and lost forever. All that work wasted on the stomach of some extra.

Ooshiba wouldn’t be Ooshiba, however, if he didn’t have a genius, utterly brilliant backup plan. It wasn’t nearly as good as the goddamn handmade chocolates, but if he had to make do, fine. Something sweet and chocolaty, with or without strawberries, from the cafeteria should do the job just fine.

Well. Fine-ish. Slightly fine. Just barely in the okay range.

Damn it, the loss of the chocolates was so frustrating he wanted to cry.

Except, of course, he couldn’t cry, because that would look lame in front of Kimishita, who he was about to pick up for lunch. While trying not to look at the extra or the chocolates— _his_  chocolates—he’d probably be eating by the time Ooshiba got there. Because if he did, there was no guarantee that he wouldn’t tear up after all.

So when he came up to Kimishita’s classroom again, he didn’t enter but hovered at the door, forcing himself to stare at Kimishita and Kimishita alone.

He didn’t even have to call him over, thankfully. Kimishita glanced up from his desk almost as soon as he entered, acknowledging his presence with a nod. Ooshiba half considered waving back. By the time he had made up his mind to do it, Kimishita was already looking down again, getting out his lunch box and rising from his chair.

Ooshiba was half offended that he was bringing a lunch box when they had agreed he’d treat him, but in the end care triumphed over annoyance. Kimishita hadn’t had proper breakfast, he reminded himself. He was twice as hungry now and needed a meal the size of two to make up for it. That was how it worked, right?

Before he could pursue that thought any further (and possibly remember what his parents had told him about the topic, because they had lectured him over and over, not that he ever listened), Kimishita crossed the room and met him in the doorway.

“So?” Ooshiba asked him. “Picked out what you wanna get?”

“Sure,” Kimishita replied, then he regarded him with a smirk. “What about you? Enough coins this time?”

Ooshiba reflexively checked his wallet, then he relaxed. “Yup.” After that incident he had made a point of always carrying around enough coins and small bills, just in case he wanted to treat Kimishita to lunch at the cafeteria again or something.

Kimishita raised an eyebrow at him, as if impressed. “If you weren’t such an idiot, I’d say you’ve learned from your mistakes,” he said. “Let’s go.”

“Kimishita, wait!”

They paused. Someone came scrambling after them. With a flash of annoyance Ooshiba realized it was the extra who had claimed his chocolates.

And he was, in fact, holding the chocolates in question. And looking very sheepish.

“These were in my desk,” he said, “but I don’t think they’re for me after all. There’s a note attached to them, and it’s addressed to you.” He gave a slightly pained smile as he extended the box towards Kimishita. “Looks like someone misplaced them. Sorry I almost ate them.”

Kimishita blinked in surprise, then he took the chocolates. “Thanks,” he muttered. “Wonder who was stupid enough to misplace something this important.”

Ooshiba wanted to snap at him, but he was also pretty sure his face was bright red and he didn’t want to attract attention to himself. Thankfully the extra said what he was thinking. “Hey, it can happen when someone’s very nervous.”

Abruptly Ooshiba was overcome with sympathy for the poor guy. “But now you got nothing,” he said. “You okay with that?”

The extra gave a forced smile. “It’s fine,” he said in a tone that indicated the opposite. “I should’ve known better than to think I got something this year.”

Ooshiba placed a hand on his shoulder. “You can have some of mine.”

“I-It’s okay—”

“Don’t worry. I got lots.”

“No, really, it’s okay...”

Before they could argue further, a hand reached over the extra’s shoulder from behind, dropping something into his hands. The extra stared. Ooshiba and Kimishita stared too. It was unmistakably a box of chocolates. Storebought, but still.

Spinning around, they found the slightly better-looking extra from earlier brushing past them with an obvious blush on his face. The extra stared at the box in his hands, then at his retreating back, and scrambled after him.

Ooshiba stared after the pair and wished them all the happiness in the world. “He’s a good kid,” he said.

Kimishita nodded absently. He was still staring at Ooshiba’s chocolates.

“What?” Ooshiba asked, totally not covering up his nervousness. “It’s just a bunch of chocolates! You can look at them later!”

Kimishita clicked his tongue. “Just wondering who could be stupid enough to leave them in the wrong desk,” he said. “Imagine if they hadn’t had a note that told people where they’re supposed to go!”

“Who cares?” Ooshiba replied with a shrug. “Everybody fucks up sometimes.”

Kimishita stared at him from below.

“If you didn’t keep going on about getting so many chocolates yourself,” he said, “I’d say you’re jealous.”

Ooshiba froze.

“I’m not jealous!” he burst out, and for once that was actually true. “Don’t get all smug just ‘cause you got a couple chocolates this year. I’m still more popular than you.”

“Good. I’m not interested in all this romantic bullshit.”

“And that’s why I’m saying you don’t deserve those chocolates, asshole!”

“Shut up! You want to buy me lunch or not? If we don’t hurry everything will be sold out before we get there!”

That made sense, Ooshiba realized. They had been standing here losing time, and he was still supposed to treat Kimishita to something good.

With the ease of two trained soccer players they took off and sprinted down into the cafeteria.

\---

Kazama stayed in the classroom with Tsukushi, glad that it was mostly deserted.

He hadn’t really paid attention to it, but his desk was packed with chocolates. Some of them had love letters attached to them; he’d have to keep those, he thought, for White Day later. Right now he didn’t really want to think about them. They reminded him too much of the task he still had lying ahead of him.

But first things first there was something else he had to take care of.

“Hey,” he said to Tsukushi as soon as they were alone, “you okay? You look like something’s bothering you.”

Tsukushi shifted and shuffled uncomfortably. His expression tensed, as if he was struggling with himself. Then he exhaled.

“It’s a love confession,” he said.

Kazama’s heart stopped in his chest. “What?”

“W-Well, um...” Tsukushi’s face was bright red, and he fidgeted. “A girl, from one of the other classes... she came here and called me out between classes while you weren’t there... and gave me chocolates and um...”

Damn it, why hadn’t Kazama been there earlier? “What girl?”

“Shiraishi-san... I think her name was.” Tsukushi’s voice grew quieter and quieter. “She said she saw me in the nationals and really liked me... and if I wanted to go out with her... and um... I didn’t know how to react, so I told her I’d think about it, but...” He lifted his gaze to meet Kazama’s in utter desperation. “What do I do now, Kazama-kun?”

_Reject her. She’ll get over it, she doesn’t even really know you._

Kazama bit back the jealousy. “Well,” he said, forcing himself to stay calm, “what do you think about her? Do you think she’s cute?”

Tsukushi furrowed his brow in deep thought.

“I... don’t know,” he said after a pause. “I was so startled I didn’t really pay attention to it... I think she was pretty, but...”

Kazama relaxed a little. “D’you wanna give her a chance, then?” he continued. “Date her even though you barely met her? I’ve done it before, y’know. But it’s kinda risky.”

Tsukushi shuffled uncomfortably. “Well... I don’t know. I think I’d prefer knowing the person, but...” His face turned sad. “She tried so hard, and she even baked me cookies. I feel bad rejecting her.”

“Do it anyway.”

Tsukushi blinked. All hints of lightheartedness and humor had disappeared from Kazama’s face as he met his eyes, suddenly dead serious.

“Whatever you do,” he said, “don’t date her just ‘cause you feel sorry for her, man. It’s not fair for her. And you’re just gonna make yourself unhappy too.”

Tsukushi continued to look at him with wide eyes. Some of his earlier anxiousness had faded already.

Tilting his head in sympathy, Kazama smiled, ruffling his hair. “Don’t worry about her,” he said warmly. “It’s just a crush, she barely even knows you. She’ll get over it just fine.”

Tsukushi relaxed visibly. “You think?”

“I know. Experience with girls, remember?” Kazama grinned at him. “Don’t worry, it’s not the end of the world.”

Tsukushi nodded and smiled, and Kazama’s insides collapsed with relief. That was close. If he hadn’t been there to give advice...

...then Tsukushi would still have made the same decision, he thought. He would have stressed over it longer, but in the end his answer would have been the same. That was the kind of person Tsukushi was: he just needed a little affirmation that he was headed the right way sometimes.

“So,” he joked, “we’re both staying single this Valentine’s Day, huh?”

He had expected Tsukushi to laugh, but instead he was only met with a baffled face. “But the love letter,” he said. “To the person you like... Did you give it to them already? Did you get rejected?”

Kazama winced. He had completely forgotten he had told Tsukushi about that.

“Well,” he said sheepishly, “some stuff happened, and then I thought maybe it wasn’t that much of a good idea, and then I forgot. But I did make them chocolates.”

Tsukushi’s eyes went round. “Did you give them to that person already? What did they say?”

Tsukushi sure was coming for his life today, Kazama thought, and he didn’t even do it on purpose. “Ah, no, actually,” he admitted. “Kinda been too chicken yet.” He laughed and hoped he wasn’t being too obvious.

Evidently he wasn’t, because Tsukushi only continued to gape at him in confusion. “But then where have you been going to in all the breaks? I thought that might have something to do with it, so, um...”

Should he lie?

No, he thought. Kiichiman might kill him if he found out, but he had already joked about him liking Kimishita in front of Tsukushi, so it wasn’t like he was telling him anything too new. Besides, if he lied here, he had the faint feeling it would quickly come back to bite him.

“Don’t tell anybody,” he said, “but I’ve actually been helping Kiichiman. He wanted to give chocolates to Kimishita-kun, but he kept screwing stuff up and asked me for help.” He shrugged. “So I kinda helped.”

Tsukushi nodded in understanding and barely-veiled excitement. “How did it go?”

“Kiichiman put the chocolates in the wrong desk and some guy thought they were for him instead.” Kazama grinned and shrugged. “No clue if he got them back uneaten.”

“What? Oh no!” Tsukushi jumped up in sympathetic distress. “But that’s terrible!”

“It’s Kiichiman, dude. He’s gonna be fine. Somehow. Accidentally.” Tsukushi gave an awkward laugh, and Kazama hurried to use the moment while they were still on the topic. “By the way...”

Reaching into his bag, he pulled out the chocolates and extended them towards Tsukushi. “Here.”

Tsukushi immediately looked over his shoulder to see if he was talking to someone behind him.

“No one’s behind you! They’re for you, silly,” Kazama said, laughing and pulling him into a one-armed hug. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Tsukushi.”

Loosening his hold, he rested his eyes on Tsukushi’s face, anxiously gauging his reaction. First he had commented on making the person he liked chocolates, and now he was giving chocolates to him. A glaringly obvious hint. But was it obvious enough for Tsukushi to make the connection?

Carefully, as if afraid to break the gift, Tsukushi took the chocolates and turned them back and forth in his hands. His eyes were round and shining. A blush spread slowly over his face.

Kazama held his breath. His own heartbeat resounded in his ears.

“These are... for me?” Slowly, shyly, Tsukushi lifted his gaze to meet Kazama’s eyes. “But they’re, um... they’re so fancy...”

Gazing deeply into his eyes, Kazama smiled. “Nothing but the best for you.”

He didn’t say  _for my best friend,_ and it wasn’t an accident. He just wondered if Tsukushi would notice.

Presently, Tsukushi blushed even redder, and Kazama almost dared to hope when he blurted out, “This is still amazing, Kazama-kun! You’re so nice! I can’t believe you went through all this trouble for a friend!”

Kazama’s hope broke and shattered into a million pieces. “Uh...”

“But I’m glad!” Tsukushi chattered on. “Because now I feel less stupid about, um, where is it...”

Reaching under his desk, he rummaged through his bag and reemerged with a small box of chocolates of his own.

“Here,” he said, placing it in Kazama’s hand. “They’re not as fancy as yours, but I hope you like them... I made them myself, but I’m not very good yet, so, um...”

He didn’t get any further before Kazama tackled him with a hug and nearly knocked him off his chair.

“No self-deprecation on my watch!” he said, squeezing him in his arms. “If you made them, I just know they’re as sweet as you!”

He couldn’t see Tsukushi’s face, but he did feel the squeeze of his small arms as he returned the hug gratefully. “Thank you,” Tsukushi laughed into his shoulder. “But you’re crushing me, Kazama-kun, I can’t breathe...”

Letting go, Kazama took in his beautiful happy face and found that he didn’t mind Tsukushi’s obliviousness as much anymore. He was still happy. Who wouldn’t be upon getting homemade chocolates from their crush on Valentine’s Day? The fact that Tsukushi had clearly intended them to be friend chocolates was something he could worry about again later.

Still grinning like a goof, he opened the box of chocolates and found a lively assortment that looked like they had been shaped in every ice cube mold Tsukushi had found in the house. Promptly Kazama regretted not making his own chocolates heart-shaped.

“Hey,” he said, “how ‘bout we both try one at the same time?”

Tsukushi blinked, wide-eyed, then he gave an excited nod. In almost perfect sync they reached for their chocolates while closely watching the other’s reaction.

Then they both took a bite.

It was sweet. It was delicious. And more than anything it felt so warm.

Kazama closed his eyes, barely able to contain how loved he felt. He didn’t know what it was about these chocolates. They were ordinary, and looking from an outside perspective they were rather plain and simple. But to him they tasted like home. To him they tasted like kindness and adoration compressed in a fun-shaped ice cube mold.

Heart fluttering, he glanced over at Tsukushi, wondering if his own chocolates had had the same effect, even just slightly. He didn’t dare hope. But when he met his gaze, Tsukushi’s eyes were huge with amazement, glittering and sparkling with barely-contained awe.

“This is delicious, Kazama-kun!” he exclaimed. “You really are amazing at everything you do!”

“No way. Yours is way more delicious!”

“Thank you, but yours is!”

“I think you mean yours.”

Tsukushi blushed, but he laughed. “No!”

Their eyes met and interlocked. Grinning and buzzing with joy, they gazed at each other, and time came to a standstill.

Now, Kazama thought. Now would be the perfect moment to kiss him.

Except he didn’t. After a long moment he finally tore his gaze from Tsukushi’s, even as part of him scolded him as a chicken. “Anyway,” he said, “weren’t we gonna eat lunch?”

“Oh.” Tsukushi blinked owlishly, then he averted his face. “Right.”

And after that absolutely nothing noteworthy happened between them that day.

\---

Lunch had gone over fine, but Ooshiba didn’t know what to think about the fact that Kimishita still hadn’t got back to him about the chocolates.

After all he had received them. And the note. And he had been so curious that he must have read the note already. He had to know they were from him. Did he just not question it at all? Did he not care? They had crossed paths multiple times since lunch, so why on earth did he continue acting like nothing had happened?

“Chill out, Kiichiman,” Kazama said when Ooshiba consulted him about it—well, complained to him about it—when passing each other by in the hallway. “Maybe he’s saving it for home or something. Just wait it out a bit and you’re gonna see his response.”

Ooshiba didn’t like that answer very much, but he didn’t have a better plan either, so he let it be.

\---

Ubukata glanced at her phone again, then she slipped out and hurried to the bathroom to check her appearance one last time before making her way to the school gate.

Hoshina hadn’t texted her since this morning, so she supposed his last messages still stood. Early today, before classes, her phone had lit up with a sudden text from him.  _Good morning,_  it had read.  _This is a little sudden, but is it okay if I meet you at your school gate today after school?_

_Sure_ , she had replied, and he had answered,  _Okay. See you later._

And now she was both relieved and a little anxious. Relieved, because she had made cookies for him for Valentine’s Day that she could now give to him on time without having to come up with an excuse. Friendship cookies, of course. Hoshina was just so nice and polite that it felt appropriate, especially with how much he had helped her out lately. Anxious, because this was way outside her comfort zone. She had always rolled her eyes at Valentine’s Day before, calling it stupid and showy and not worth the hype. Part of her still felt like she was about to make a giant fool of herself.

Then again, this was Hoshina. Good-natured, understanding, slow to judge. If there was a person she didn’t have to put up a tough front for, it had to be him.

Part of her wondered if he would truly be there already when she arrived, but even from a distance she recognized his school uniform, his tall frame and dark hair blowing slightly in the wind. No wonder, she thought. She was still busy with the soccer club even when there was no afternoon practice, and he had a lot more time now that he was about to graduate. If anything she was the one who was late.

“Hoshina-san!”

She called to him, but moments later she realized that she had never needed to; Hoshina had spotted her the moment she had appeared within sight. “Good afternoon,” he said when she reached the gate, giving a slight bow. “Thank you for having me.”

“It’s... it’s fine,” Ubukata replied, unsure if this was in any way a fitting response. “There’s no reason why I shouldn’t have.”

“I’m glad, then.” Hoshina gave a slight smile. “Truth be told, I’m glad I had an excuse to hurry away from my own school today.”

He looked genuinely relieved, but Ubukata suddenly felt strange. “I expect a lot of people were trying to ask you out.”

“Well... I don’t know, actually.” Hoshina furrowed his brow in thought. “The bigger problem is Kai. He’s been crowded by girls all day and trying to use me as an excuse to get away.”

Ubukata gave a snort and a small lopsided grin. “Well, he  _is_  outgoing.”

“And a very good guy,” Hoshina added with genuine fondness for his friend. “But on days like this, it backfires.”

Ubukata nodded in understanding. She, too, knew guys like this on the Seiseki team. Only an hour ago Mizuki had asked her for help with his own Valentine’s Day gifts, which he had needed an entire extra bag for. Apparently this was a common enough occurrence to leave the other third-years completely unfazed.

But that aside...

“So,” she ventured, a little stiffly and awkwardly, “you... didn’t get that much today?”

Hoshina shook his head. “Only a little. I guess I rejected so many girls in the past that they gave up on me.”

That sounded discouraging, though Ubukata couldn’t quite understand why. “You won’t have to do that now,” she said. “But... do you accept friend chocolates?”

Damn it, she really wasn’t used to this. Her face was burning, and her gaze had trailed off, falling on everything but Hoshina’s face.

Hoshina, however, gave a nod. “But only,” he said, “if you accept mine in return.”

Ubukata’s mouth gaped open. “What?”

“It’s actually the reason why I asked to meet you today.” Reaching into his bag, Hoshina pulled out a small box of chocolates and extended it towards her with a bow. “They’re friend chocolates too. I hope you like them.”

Ubukata stood speechless.

“W-Why—” she managed out at last. “Why—why did you—”

“Well, there was all this talk this year about how boys should give love letters and chocolates on Valentine’s Day too.” Somehow Hoshina still showed zero embarrassment, as if all of this was the most normal thing in the world. “All my friends started doing it, so I thought I’d also give you a small token of appreciation.”

“I... I see,” Ubukata managed out intelligently.

On the inside she was losing her mind. What was this? What was happening? Was Hoshina seriously giving her Valentine’s Day chocolates? Fine, maybe many guys were doing it this year, granted, but  _what the hell?_  Even if they were friendship chocolates, this was completely ridiculous! They had known each other for what, three months? Since when were they even close enough for friendship chocolates?

...Truth be told, she kind of liked it.

Extending her hand, she took the box of chocolates from Hoshina’s hand while simultaneously holding out the cookies with the other. Hoshina accepted them with a grateful bow of his head.

“These look very good,” he remarked. “Are they handmade?”

Ubukata nodded stiffly.

Hoshina smiled. “I didn’t know you could bake,” he said. “You have a lot of talents.”

“Th-Thank you.” There she was, going pink again. “For the chocolates too.”

“You’re welcome.”

There was an awkward pause.

“So,” Hoshina broke the silence at last, “are you headed home now?”

Ubukata nodded. “I guess.”

“If you’ll have me, I’ll walk with you part of the way.”

Her head jolting up, Ubukata stared wide-eyed at Hoshina’s face, half wondering if he was being serious. The other half of her knew him well enough to not recall a single moment where he had ever  _not_  been serious.

For a moment she wanted to decline, saying she could make it on her own, but in the end she gave in. Hoshina was strange, but he was good company, so if he offered her a reason to spend more time together, who was she to say no?

“If you want to,” she mumbled, “I guess I won’t mind.”

\---

“Just ask him, Kiichiman,” Kazama whispered, nudging him in the back. “You were even there when he got it. Just pretend you’re curious!”

Ooshiba didn’t like the idea much, but Kazama had a point, and he didn’t want to go home today with the same uncertainty with which he had come. So, squaring his shoulders and puffing up his chest, he took a deep breath and went up to Kimishita while looking as causal as possible.

“Hey,” he said.

Kimishita looked up. “What?”

“...chocolates.”

Furrowing his brow, Kimishita stared at him in blank incomprehension. “What are you talking abou—”

“The chocolates you got earlier!” Ooshiba said with some effort. “Have you... uh... have you found out who sent them yet?”

“I wish!”

This time it was Ooshiba’s turn to stare. “What?”

“I said, I wish,” Kimishita grumbled. “The note doesn’t have their name on it.”

Ooshiba’s brain malfunctioned and logged off.

Very, very dimly he recalled rewriting the note. Little by little, word by word, crafted unto perfection...

...and then forgetting to sign with his name.

Then all his thoughts derailed into white noise.

“Kiichiman,” Kazama muttered some feet away, “I’m never letting you live this down, ever.”

\---

Anonymous or not, Kimishita did have to admit that the chocolates were delicious.

They looked handmade, and whoever had made them had clearly put some work into it. Not to mention thought. The result was a delicious strawberry-chocolate combination that melted in the mouth, and Kimishita had to stop himself from eating the entire box at once.

Strawberry flavor, he thought. Of all things. Whoever had given him these chocolates had clearly done their research on his favorite flavor.

Either that... or they knew him very well.


	16. And Then What

“At least,” Kazama said without lifting his head, “you guys didn’t succeed either.”

He was lying face-down on a table in the family restaurant that was quickly becoming the base of their operations, his soda still untouched in front of him and probably warm by now. “I can’t believe it,” he said with a long-suffering laugh. “The hint was so obvious! How much more do I have to do till he gets it?”

Kiichiman gave him a grandfatherly pat on the shoulder. “I know how you feel.”

“Like hell you do! It’s not like I forgot to put my name under the love letter or anything,” Kazama replied without moving an inch, coloring Kiichiman a nice shade of pink. “I actually knew what I was doing!”

“But Tsukamoto doesn’t.”

This time it was Hoshina who had spoken. Kazama minimally lifted his head.

“He doesn’t know your intentions, so he can only guess,” Hoshina elaborated upon catching his questioning gaze. “And Tsukamoto has low self-esteem, doesn’t he?”

Kazama pushed himself off the table, only to slump over backwards in his seat. “Tell me about it!” he exclaimed. “He keeps counting his mistakes and can’t see his strengths at all! Do you know how long it took him to stop worrying if he’s bothering m—wait.” With a sudden realization he sat straight. “You mean that he might’ve suspected something... but ruled out that I might like-like him?”

Hoshina gave a nod. “It’s possible.”

“Dammit, Tsukushi.” Kazama cracked a half-frustrated grin. “How are the most amazing people always the ones who can’t see how amazing they are?”

“Because they try to be better,” Hoshina said immediately. “It’s impossible to get better without criticizing yourself.”

“But Tsukushi’s too harsh on himself.” All the times he had caught him talking badly about himself flashed before Kazama’s eyes, all the times he had comforted him when he despaired over not being good enough. “He doesn’t see his strengths at all. When you say nice things about him he just brushes it off. Never mind the whole chocolate thing, he doesn’t deserve to be this hard on himself ever.”

He stared at his glass of soda. His reflection stared back at him, slightly distorted. Somehow he felt like it was mocking him a little. Who was he to talk about Tsukushi’s self-esteem when he was the one secretly thinking he wasn’t worthy of Tsukushi? Pot, kettle, much?

“He doesn’t deserve it,” he repeated, poking a finger at the glass to shut out the reflection. “He’s amazing and he should know that.”

Hoshina nodded in understanding. “I think I know how you feel. Ubukata can be very strict on herself too after all.”

“Kimishita too,” Kiichiman piped in. “He never accepts compliments. He just gets all grumpy and shit.”

There was a pause.

“Hm,” the three said in unison.

It seemed to them that their problems weren’t all that different. Or rather, it seemed like they were all facing the same problem.

“Cool,” Kazama said. “So what do we do about it?”

Kiichiman shrugged. “More compliments?”

“Doesn’t work on Tsukushi. Or Kimishita-kun, apparently.” Kazama took a sip from his now lukewarm soda and made a face. “No promises about Ubukata, but I think she’s pretty praise-proof too.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t praise them more,” Hoshina mused, “but make them believe the things we already say.”

“Sounds about right,” Kazama said as he took another sip. “So how do we do that?”

None of them knew an answer to that.

\---

“Renovate Kimishita-senpai’s shop?”

Tsukushi’s expression was a mixture of surprise and curious excitement, and Kazama grinned as he nodded. “Yeah! Kiichiman’s idea,” he said. “How he got Kimishita-kun convinced I’m not sure either, but he’s planning to get everyone on board soon.”

Tsukushi’s eyes sparkled. “That’s incredible! And the team can really help too?”

“I’m pretty sure we can!” Kazama smiled at him. “D’you like stuff like that?”

Tsukushi nodded excitedly. “I always help my mom with it when something needs to be fixed at home,” he said. “I’m actually not that bad at it!” He pumped his fist and smiled. “It’s been almost a year since I last hit myself with a hammer!”

Kazama laughed out loud. “Dude, that sounds like you’re better than me!”

Tsukushi went pink and fidgeted, visibly at a loss for what to do with the concept. Kazama suppressed a sigh. There it was again, the problem they hadn’t been able to solve at their emergency meeting.

“Don’t get so flustered about that,” he remarked. “You’re better than me at a bunch of stuff. That’s normal.”

Tsukushi blinked owlishly. “Eh?”

Kazama nodded, ready to list it off, when a sudden idea struck him. “Can’t you think of anything?”

Tsukushi furrowed his brow, pressed his lips together and thought long and hard.

“Well,” he mused, “I’m better than you at cooking.”

Wincing, Kazama pushed back a sudden traumatic memory. “We’re not talking about that time I almost chopped my finger off in home ec,” he said. “But yeah! That’s a start!”

“And repairing things, if you’re right,” Tsukushi continued. “And, um... being in places on time. And drawing... and jigsaw puzzles.”

“I’ll never get how you can pore over those for hours,” Kazama groaned.

Tsukushi gave a sheepish smile. “It calms me down.”

“And drives me nuts, I keep losing half the pieces and find them under the couch weeks later,” Kazama laughed. “But there you have it! You’re straight-up more organized than me.” He didn’t like using the word  _straight-up_  without some sort of pun about his orientation, but he resisted the urge to make one; he could always make those again when he was out to Tsukushi. Whenever that was.

Tsukushi made the same face he always made when pondering a thought very intensely.

“I guess you’re right,” he said at last, sounding a little surprised by his own words.

Kazama grinned. “See? So it’s not so weird that you’re better than me at repairing stuff too!”

Tsukushi furrowed his brow as if he didn’t quite like that suggestion; it seemed like, after all, it still sounded wrong to him. Kazama sighed inwardly. Of course his low self-esteem couldn’t be dealt with that easily.

But in the end the frown faded from Tsukushi’s face, to be replaced by a wide-eyed emotion Kazama didn’t know how to name. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “I guess... putting it that way, it doesn’t sound so strange.”

Kazama’s face had never lit up so fast in his life.

Maybe, he thought, the whole self-esteem thing wasn’t as hard as he had initially thought.

\---

“By the way, Atsushi,” Kimishita’s father said over dinner, “have you talked to your friend about that whole renovation thing yet?”

Kimishita looked up from his takeout yakisoba mid-chew. It wasn’t as good as his own, he thought, but it couldn’t be helped when he had no time to cook. “Not really,” he said. “Why?”

“Just wondering,” said his father. “The weekend’s coming up, I thought maybe you guys want to use that.”

Kimishita continued chewing, swallowed and took another bite. Not such a bad idea, he thought, rationally speaking. Or at least it would be quite decent if it wasn’t so soon. If his house was to be invaded by a bunch of idiot teammates, he needed at least a handful of weeks to prepare mentally.

Then again, if they only  _started_  in a handful of weeks, the school year would be over before they got anything done. Wasn’t Kimishita the one who always told others to stop procrastinating?

He sighed.

“You’re right,” he said. “Guess I have to talk to Kiichi again.” He clicked his tongue. “Though he should be the one contacting me, since it’s still his idea.”

“Don’t be like that, Atsushi! Is it really such a hassle to contact a friend?” His father laughed and tapped a fist against his shoulder. “You two are working together, it shouldn’t matter who’s supposed to contact who!”

Kimishita grimaced at him, disgruntled. “I don’t want to make it seem like I’m invested in his nonsense! I’m just going along with his idiocy.”

“Say I asked about it, then.”

Kimishita took another mouthful of yakisoba and grumbled something unintelligible.

“Fine,” he said after he finished chewing. “If you insist.”

His father smiled. “Awesome! If you boys need anything from me, just ask. You know, like finding more people or getting supplies or repair work—”

“Not repair work,” Kimishita interrupted him, vividly remembering his father’s last attempt. His right hand was still scarred in places, and his left thumbnail had regrown in a slightly different shape than before.

“C’mon, Atsushi, that was one time!”

“One time was enough! It’s a miracle that window wasn’t broken!”

“I learned from that mistake!” his father said, laughing again. “What would’ve happened if you had given up on soccer after your first accident? You have to make lots of mistakes before you’re good!”

“I know that! But we can’t afford any more damage!”

“You’re such a worrywart.” Reaching across the table, his father ruffled his hair, ignoring Kimishita’s protest. “But if you insist, fine, I’ll stick to harmless tasks. I can leave the more challenging bits to you and your friend.”

Kimishita gave a slight nod. Some part of him still felt weird about his father calling Kiichi his friend so often, but the rest of him cared surprisingly little. It wasn’t all wrong. They were friends; and in the past weeks more so than ever.

So, he supposed, contacting him about this nonsense wasn’t that much of a big deal either.

Finishing his meal, he stood up, washed the dishes, and returned to his room to pick up his phone. He half wondered what exactly he should text Kiichi, though.

Only to find he didn’t have to.

Right at the top of his notifications was a message from Kiichi.

_so abt the shop thing. u wanna do smth htis weekend?_

...How exactly had he managed to get the timing so right? Was he psychic?

Sitting down in his desk chair, Kimishita leaned back and typed in a reply.  _Was just about to ask you the same_ , he wrote.  _Have you prepared anything yet?_

Kiichi’s reply was almost immediate.  _jst some ideas n shit_

There was a moment’s pause, and then another message followed.  _wanna call?_

Kimishita hesitated. He didn’t like phone calls much, admittedly; they were all kinds of troublesome. But at the same time it was probably faster than debating it all through texting.

He sighed.

_Go ahead._

The message had barely been marked as read when his phone rang.

“Hey,” Kiichi’s voice came from the speaker as soon as Kimishita had picked up. “There you are.”

“No shit,” Kimishita replied, though without malice. “So? What are your ideas so far?”

He fully expected some ridiculous, over-detailed but poorly-thought-out plan, but Kiichi’s answer wasn’t like that at all. “We gotta see what the place needs and what we need for that,” he said. “And then we ask around and try to get people on board. To see what we can do.”

Kimishita stared at the phone.

“Who came up with that?”

“I did!” Kiichi burst out at once. “You got a problem with that?”

He didn’t sound like he was lying. In fact, he sounded so offended that it was obvious he had come up with the plan all by himself.

“Not really,” Kimishita said, cracking a smile. “It’s just more mature than I expected.”

“You wanna fight?”

“I was praising you, idiot!”

There was a beat of silence on the other end of the line.

“Oh,” Kiichi said at last, suddenly very awkward. “Uh. Really?”

Suddenly Kimishita regretted his last comment.

“Why are you so surprised?” he grumbled. “It’s not like I’ve never said anything nice to you before!”

Kiichi’s voice turned smug. “’Course you have,” he said. “I’m just amazing like that.”

“One more word and I hang up on you!”

“I got it, asshole! Now what do we do?”

Kimishita sighed.

“Your plan sounds fine,” he said. “Drop by my place or something, and then we can look through everything. You constantly pop up here anyway.”

Kiichi’s voice was cheerful again. “Yup!”

“And one more thing,” Kimishita added. “Mind involving my old man too? It’s still his place, and he sounds like he wants to help.”  _And we need some way to keep him from helping with the actual repairs,_  he added in his head.

There was a moment’s pause on the other end of the line, as if Kiichi pondered the question. “Sure,” he said at last. “Your dad’s cool.”

 _You barely met him a handful of times!_  Kimishita wanted to remark, but before he could, another smile made its way onto his face. “You’re right,” he said fondly. “He is.”

\---

Ubukata sat slumped over her desk, but she couldn’t focus on her homework no matter how hard she tried.

Maybe it was boredom that left her distracted, she mused as she twirled her pencil in her hand. Up to the end of nationals she had constantly been busy, researching teams and compiling strategies and staying awake at night so many times that she collapsed. Now she finally had time to relax, and it was boring her out of her skull. She wanted a match to prepare for. She wanted to stay up until three in the morning searching for their next opponents’ weakness, damn it!

Absently she poked the box of chocolates still on her desk. Hoshina’s chocolates. She still hadn’t eaten any of them. Why, she wasn’t sure either. Somehow the box just looked too pretty to do anything except look at it.

Besides, it wasn’t like she was low on chocolate at the moment. Her girls had exchanged some with her, and Yuki had given her an entire homemade chocolate cake that still needed eating. The soccer idiots had been appropriately jealous about that one—especially Kazama, who had loudly complained about his own sister being nicer to girls than she was to his own brother.

And then there was a little more. Not something she had received, but something she had made and then decided against giving out.

Along with the cookies for Hoshina and the girls, there had been some leftover ones that she had considered giving to Tsukamoto.

Not as a romantic gift, obviously. Any blind idiot could see the humongous, glaringly obvious crush Kazama had on him, and any equally blind idiot could see that Tsukamoto reciprocated. Except, naturally, for the two in question. Ubukata was already frustrated enough with their heart eyes and longing gazes without more interfering misunderstandings. She’d be damned if she of all people made the situation worse.

No, the gift had been meant to be entirely platonic. As a thank-you, perhaps, for inspiring her to become Seiseki’s manager and subsequently change into a better, happier person. A token of friendship, perhaps, because she did feel a little guilty for showing her appreciation so little, considering how much she owed him. He was, after all, a pretty good kid.

But in the end she hadn’t gone through with it. Observing Tsukamoto and Kazama, something had told her it would have been a bad idea after all. If anything she had felt tempted to shove her cookies into Kazama’s hands and tell him to just ask the idiot out already, because they were becoming unbearable.

She only hoped no one had noticed her looking in Tsukamoto’s direction, probably staring, wondering whether or not to give him the cookies (and, most importantly, whether or not Kazama would confess already). Otherwise rumors might spread, and that would be a disaster. Because even if she denied liking Tsukamoto after that, who would believe her?

Sighing, she trailed her finger along the box again. Hoshina might believe her, she mused. After all, she had given cookies to him and not Tsukamoto. Platonic cookies, fine. But still, shouldn’t it kill any rumors if people found out he was the only guy she had given something to on Valentine’s Day?

Granted, that might start a whole different bunch of rumors. But those she wouldn’t mind as much. Mostly because, to her knowledge, they wouldn’t sabotage anyone’s relationships.

_Hoshina, Hoshina, Hoshina..._

Her face heated up. Why was she thinking of him so much? She really shouldn’t get into anything stupid. For starters, she still had no time for crushes and romance; she was a girl with a mission, and like hell she would stray from that. And besides, there was no way Hoshina would be seriously interested in someone like her anyway.

But his polite text messages, the slight bow he always greeted her with, his serious thoughtfulness and gentlemanlike manners... those were things she could easily get used to.

_Stop thinking about him!_

She pushed the box of chocolates out of sight. Embarrassing. Silly. Annoying. Embarrassing.

Homework. She should be doing homework. And after she was done... oh right. Out of habit she had almost thought, _research our next opponent._

She guessed she’d just read a book or something. Maybe study a bit. Or chat with her girls if any of them went online later on.

In middle school, she thought, she wouldn’t have needed to think about such questions. The answer would have been obvious.

But that wasn’t an option anymore. She had given up on writing for a good reason. And then she had found things she was more talented at—

The memory of Hoshina’s words cut into her thoughts.  _I can’t see a reason why you shouldn’t try._

_You’re smart, talented and hardworking. I don’t think there’s anything you’re not cut out for once you set your mind to it._

Tsukamoto, she thought, would definitely not have given up when she had. And while she didn’t really dream of becoming a writer anymore, what was the harm in getting back into something she loved?

Without thinking she reached for the drawer where she knew she still kept her old manuscripts, too disillusioned to touch them but too attached to throw them away for good. She opened it. Pulled out a stack of paper.

Her own handwriting stared back at her, hectic, often messy, but full of passion for what she had been doing. In many places she had scribbled between the lines, pushed in edits and corrections and additions, leaving the text barely legible in places. She dreaded reading it, but she did anyway.

_The cringe._

Ubukata grimaced at herself. She couldn’t believe her middle school self had unironically believed this was good. It was dreadful; bumpy, repetitive, ill-paced, under-descriptive in some places and full of purple prose in others. To say nothing of the plot and characters. Nobody talked or acted like that, and how on earth were there three glaring plot holes on the first page alone?

Yeah, no wonder nobody had wanted to publish this fabricated garbage.

She almost gathered the pages together and stuffed them back into the drawer of shame, but something kept her. Because rereading her old writing had brought out a second emotion other than embarrassment.

She remembered these stories, these characters. She remembered the ideas buzzing wildly about in her head, refusing to leave her alone until she wrote them down, the school breaks and walks home and nights awake spent playing with ideas as rough concepts blossomed into entire worlds full of people in her mind. And even as she read, she could feel them all coming alive once more.

That heroine... How long had it taken her to get her name and personality right? And sure enough, after all this time, she still spoke to her. Now that she remembered her, she wanted to do something with this character again. She wanted to bring her back to life, properly this time.

And all the other characters, too. Her free-spirited best friend. The grumpy but good-natured mentor. And the love interest, too.

Especially the love interest, she thought. How she had adored him. He had been everything she admired in a man, everything the boys at her school had adamantly refused to be: kind, honest, smart, humble and generous, polite, well-mannered, a real gentleman. A little serious and awkward, granted, but looking back, so was the heroine. And when they were together they both lightened up.

_You know, I actually did pretty well here._

Ubukata reached for a pencil, twirling it in her hands. These characters weren’t half bad. She liked the premise for the plot too. And now that she looked at it, suddenly a dozen fixes for all the plot holes began to pop up in her head.

Ah, what the hell. It wasn’t like she wanted to try and publish this again. She was only doing this for the fun of it. So what did she have to lose?

So, might as well try her hand at a rewrite.


	17. Tsukushi-kun Can't Communicate

“Great idea,” Kazama said, leaning against the lamppost in front of Kimishita’s shop. “So what’d you call us for?”

They were gathered before the door, all four of them: Kimishita, Kiichiman, and after the latter’s invitation now Kazama and Tsukushi too. Kimishita’s father had greeted them, given them a list and then cheerfully excused himself to mind the store, with the addition that they could call him if they needed help anytime.

“To help,” Kiichiman said like Kazama had just asked a very stupid question. “This is a list of all the people Kimishita’s dad knows who can help. We got a list of shit we need too. Now we just gotta go around and ask them.”

Kazama snorted. “What, the old-fashioned door-to-door way?”

“Yup.”

“Sounds fun! I’m in.”

Tsukushi looked a little anxious at the suggestion, but his look was one of determination. “Me too! I’ll do my best!”

Kimishita still looked rather confused about the situation. “We don’t need four people to talk to everyone.”

“Sure do. We can split up and get to everyone faster.” Kiichiman gestured to the list. “Kazama, Tsukamoto, you take one half. We take the other.”

_Oh, that’s why he invited us of all people._  Kazama bit back a grin. Looking back, the strategy was glaringly obvious.

Kimishita’s expression shifted towards understanding, but he still didn’t look fully convinced. “Then we might as well take a quarter each.”

Kiichiman blanched, and so did Tsukushi, though doubtlessly for different reasons. Thankfully the look on Tsukushi’s face was enough to give Kazama an idea for a good excuse. “Sure, that’s faster,” he said. “But look at it this way. Wouldn’t you rather go with somebody who can help you do the talking?”

He knew he had hit the mark even before Kimishita responded. Kimishita, after all, didn’t like people much, and having to interact with them for a prolonged amount of time always made him grumpy. There was absolutely no way this guy would want to go to even a quarter of the people on this list on his own if it meant he had to do all the talking himself.

“I guess,” he grumbled, proving Kazama right. “If it means I don’t have to pretend to be excited about this bullshit.”

“Hey!” Kiichiman burst out, equally predictably.

“Don’t ‘Hey’ me! This was your idea! You think I’m excited about having a dozen people inside the store and not even buying anything?” Kimishita clicked his tongue. “Being happy about it is your job!”

“Antisocial asshole!”

“Shut up! Not everyone gets their energy from being the center of attention like you!”

“Guys, guys, save that for later,” Kazama chimed in before they could get any further. “How ‘bout we split up the list before you two try to kill each other?”

They both grumbled but complied. Kimishita counted the list, then he pulled a pencil out of his pocket and scribbled a line between two of the addresses.

“That’s half and half,” he said. “We take the first half. You take the second.”

Kazama snapped a picture of his and Tsukushi’s part. “Roger that,” he said just as Tsukushi nodded energetically. “Shall we go?”

Nobody had anything against it.

\---

“Okay,” Kazama said as soon as they were alone, “d’you have any clue where any of those places are?”

Tsukushi blinked up at him in confusion. “I thought you knew, Kazama-kun,” he said. “You started walking so confidently.”

“I went in a random direction,” Kazama admitted. “But hey, there are barely any houses that way, and that way Kimishita-kun and Kiichiman already went. So, just leaves this way, right?”

Tsukushi laughed nervously. “Don’t get us lost, Kazama-kun...”

“I won’t, I won’t! If it goes really wrong I’m just gonna call Kimishita-kun. No need to sleep in a family restaurant like back when we first met, don’t worry.” Although, Kazama mused, spending a night with Tsukushi in a place that wasn’t his home or a training camp hotel room did sound kind of exciting. Maybe in summer they could sleep under the stars sometime.

Well, never mind that. He could always daydream later when he was alone. Right now it was better to focus on the very real Tsukushi in front of him.

“Actually,” Tsukushi laughed, “I know the area too. So I can guide us too if we need it!”

Kazama’s head spun around. “Really?”

“Yes! My mom works near here, so...”

“I see!” Kazama opened the picture of the list on his phone and held it towards Tsukushi. “Then you can be my guide! Where do we go first?”

Going over the addresses, Tsukushi pursed his lips, his eyes moving back and forth as if following a map in his head. “The closest is this one,” he said, tapping the third address on the list. “Should we go there first?”

Kazama struck a silly pose as he motioned him ahead. “Lead the way!”

\---

“Hey,” Kiichi said as they walked down the street. Kimishita ignored him.

“Hey,” Kiichi said again, louder this time.

Kimishita still ignored him.

“Hey!”

“ _What?_ ”

Kiichi stuffed his hands into his pockets, visibly satisfied to get a response. “Where are we going?”

“To the first address,” Kimishita deadpanned. “Where do you  _think_  we’re going?”

Kiichi ignored the question. “D’you know the people there?”

“I know everyone on the list,” Kimishita replied, still wondering what Kiichi was getting at, if he was getting at anything at all. “Comes with living in a place for a long time.”

“Hm.”

There was a pause.

“So?” Kimishita asked at last, getting impatient. “Why’d you ask?”

“Just curious.”

Kimishita clicked his tongue and didn’t bother formulating a response.

“Hey,” Kiichi said again after a pause.

Kimishita stopped in his steps to spin around and glare at him. “ _What do you want?_ ”

“I’m trying to conversate,” Kiichi replied. “That’s the polite thing to do.”

“It’s  _converse_ ,” Kimishita said with tangible exasperation.

Kiichi stared in confusion. “What’s the shoe brand got to do with this?”

Kimishita was very close,  _very_  close to giving up.

But he didn’t, for some reason. For some very stupid reason he kept responding to Kiichi’s nonsense. Over and over and over.

“Nothing,” he groaned, fighting the irrational urge to jump off the bridge they were crossing and hitch a ride on a passing car below. “The verb for  _conversation_  isn’t  _conversate_ , it’s  _converse_. Now shut up for five seconds!”

For a moment it seemed like Kiichi actually obliged, but of course fate wasn’t that kind.

“D’you know all those people through your dad?”

Kimishita blinked. This question was actually on an acceptable level of stupid.

“Yeah, mostly,” he said, resuming his walk. “He grew up here too after all. He’s known some of them since he was a kid.”

“Must be nice.”

Kimishita glanced up in surprise. Kiichi’s tone had changed; he sounded almost thoughtful now, all traces of nonsense fading from his voice. “I dunno many people in my neighborhood,” he mused. “My parents just moved to our house right before I was born. My sis was still born in a different place.”

Kimishita didn’t answer. He didn’t really know what to say.

“I got a lot of relatives though,” Kiichi continued in the same tone, his eyes focused on some point in the distance. “But they live kinda far away. So it’s not really the same.”

Meanwhile he didn’t really have relatives, Kimishita thought. “Maybe it’s fair,” he said out loud. “You have a big family but don’t know people in your neighborhood. I just have my old man and know half the neighborhood.”

Kiichi thought about that for a moment. “Maybe.”

Kimishita didn’t know where to go from that response, so he said nothing.

“D’you not have any aunts or uncles?” Kiichi asked after some time.

Kimishita shook his head. “My old man’s an only child.”

“Grandparents?”

“Not anymore.” Kimishita buried his hands in his pockets. “Pops’ parents died when I was a kid. Never met the other ones. No idea if they’re even still alive.”

“You never tried to find out?”

Kimishita clicked his tongue. “Why should I? They’re only connected to me through my mom. And she ditched us.”

“That sounds lonely as shit.”

Kimishita lifted his gaze. Kiichi was actually looking a little sad now, he realized. No wonder. To an extrovert with a big family Kimishita’s life had to sound quite depressing.

“It’s not as bad as it sounds,” he replied, the ghost of a smile momentarily passing over his face. “At least my old man and I are close. I’d rather have him and no other family than a big family I can’t get along with.”

Kiichi didn’t seem to have heard him. “Not even siblings...”

“Hey, were you listening?”

“I can’t imagine not having my sis,” Kiichi babbled on. “Or my aunts and uncles. Or my grandma and grandad. You don’t even have family celebrations or shit like that.”

Kimishita shrugged. “No problem with that.”

“I’m inviting you to our next one.”

Kimishita stopped short.

“Idiot, did you listen to anything I said?” he snapped. “I’m telling you, I don’t need any of—”

“The food is really good.”

Kimishita forgot about all his complaints as the thought of delicious, expensive food popped up in his head.

“Fine,” he said. “I’m going.”

Kiichi gave a huge grin. It should have been smug; it would be perfectly like Kiichi to act smug about how easily Kimishita was bribed with the promise of good food. But instead it just looked... happy. Stupidly excited, like a puppy who had just been promised a walk.

“What’s with that face?” Kimishita asked.

Kiichi abruptly stopped grinning. “Nothing.”

“Ah?”

“I said nothing!” Kiichi adamantly refused to look in Kimishita’s direction. “Let’s just go to our first person!”

That wasn’t a satisfactory answer at all, but he did have a good enough point, so for the time being Kimishita let it go.

\---

They were standing in front of a tiny old grocery store, the type of which didn’t usually show up in cities anymore. A few old people and mothers with children were choosing among the fruits and vegetables, trying to figure out what to make for dinner. From the inside came the continuous chatter of an elderly man.

“—and I’m tellin’ ya, they would’ve won if they hadn’t underestimated ‘em, they always do that, underestimate their opponents when they’re not big names, they do. Only thing keepin’ ‘em from makin’ it really big. Their new players are pretty good too, but I’m tellin’ ya, they’re underutilized to no end—”

Kazama pointed to the store entrance. “This is the place?”

Tsukushi looked down at the list, then compared it with the address on the building and nodded. “I think so,” he said. “It even says so here, grocery store Yamanaka-san.”

Kazama stood on his tip-toes to try and get a glimpse of the inside of the store and, if possible, the storeowner. “Sounds about right. Looks like the guy’s even talking about soccer too!”

Tsukushi nodded. “I hope he’s a nice person!”

“I’m sure he is,” Kazama said, and then paused. He had been one step away from marching in and interrupting the old man’s chatter with chatter of his own, but now a better idea popped up in his head.

_Build confidence..._

“Hey,” he said to Tsukushi, “do you wanna try talking to him?”

Tsukushi stumbled and nearly knocked over a display of cabbages.

“Eh?” he spluttered. “Um... M-M-Me?”

“Yeah!” Kazama smiled encouragingly, though also a little mischievously. “C’mon, you’ve played in front of the whole country and talked to a TV interviewer. How hard can it be?”

It wasn’t that he wanted to pressure Tsukushi into something he wasn’t comfortable with. It was just that if he never got out of his comfort zone, Tsukushi would never get less anxious, and he deserved better than that.

Tsukushi fidgeted anxiously, and Kazama was just about to start backpedaling when he nodded. “Okay.”

Kazama grinned and gave him a thumbs-up. “Agent Tsukushi, the mission’s a go!”

Nodding again, Tsukushi took a deep breath and stepped inside the shop, Kazama following close behind.

The smell of tangerines greeted them. A whole display of them stood right in their way, some shiny and fresh, others a little battered but still looking edible. They were flanked by lemons on one side and an assortment of nuts on the other, an impressive stack of egg cartons rising up behind them.

Heh. Eggs and nuts. Under normal circumstances Kazama might have made a joke.

In the middle of the small, stuffy shop was an old counter, behind which stood a sturdy elderly man. Despite his age he was still energetic; his face was red as an old apple and just as wrinkly and as lively as his voice. An endless stream of chatter filled the room as he worked, talking to three customers at once without losing track of a conversation. Behind him a cheery-looking woman who might or might not be his wife did her part of the job while whistling off-tune.

“They look nice,” Kazama whispered to Tsukushi. “It’s gonna be okay!”

Tsukushi swallowed. He looked very pale and very anxious.

And also didn’t move an inch.

“What’s wrong?” Kazama asked after a moment.

Tsukushi blinked at him as if snapping out of a reverie, then he stumbled a few steps forward, only to hover a few feet from the counter, still fidgeting.

The old man didn’t appear to notice him. He continued his endless stream of chatter with the customers.

Tsukushi shuffled his feet, taking half a step and slightly extending his hand into some sort of gesture, then he withdrew and return to staring at the ground before his shoes.

One of the customers left. The next, an old lady, was still in the middle of sorting through her things. A window opened to get the old man’s attention. Tsukushi lifted his head, but he had reacted too late, and before he could say a single word the old lady had already stepped up and taken up the man’s attention again.

Tsukushi’s shoulders slumped in disappointment. It only lasted for a few seconds, then he took a deep breath, lightly slapped his cheeks with both hands, and tried again.

He got about three inches further than the first time before backing out again.

_Are you gonna be okay?_  Kazama wanted to ask, but Tsukushi, catching his gaze, gave him a thumbs-up and a determined expression. So Kazama sighed and let him carry on, despite the growing notion that pushing him into this might have been a mistake.

“An’ the moral of the story is, ma’am,” the old man continued to babble, “that you should never leave a store to yer son if he never did it before, I don’ care if he’s a wealthy salaryman or whatever, if he never learned it he’ll be bad at it anyway—can I help ya, kid?”

It took Tsukushi a good three seconds to realize he was the one being addressed, and another two to remember that he was supposed to reply.

“Y-Y-Yes!” he blurted out, startled. “I mean, um... Take your time! There are so many people here and, um, I have time...”

The old man furrowed his brow at him. “D’ya want my help or not?”

“Yes! But um, please take care of the other customers first, they’ve been here longer...”

“A’ight, then get in line, son. No good hoverin’ around there till yer noticed.”

Tsukushi went very pink and began to stumble towards the end of the line as he was told, careful to avoid all the curious eyes falling on him.

Okay,  _now_  Kazama should definitely step in. “Actually, old man,” he chimed, “we’re not here to buy anything! We’re here to talk to you.”

The old man narrowed his eyes at him, seemingly noticing him for the first time. “An’ who might you be, boy?”

“His friend,” Kazama chimed, crossing the shop to loop an arm around Tsukushi’s shoulders. “And friends with Kimishita-kun too. We’re his teammates from the soccer team!”

“Soccer?”

The old man visibly perked up, then recognition dawned on his face. “Oh, you’re Atsushi’s teammates, ain’tcha? Shoulda said so from the start!”

“Atsushi?” Tsukushi repeated, rapidly regaining his confidence. “So you know Kimishita-senpai?”

“Know him?” The old man gave a snort. “Known ‘im since he was in diapers, and his old man too! Good kid, that one. Keeps helpin’ me carry heavy stuff, an’ always so polite.” He smiled, even as Kazama and Tsukushi stared; a Kimishita who was always polite was difficult to imagine. “So whaddya want, teammates?”

They explained it to him.

\---

“That went well,” Kazama chimed as Tsukushi led him to the next address. “See? It’s not that scary. But next time I can do the approaching again if you want!”

Tsukushi shook his head. “Thank you, but I’ll do it!” he said. “I need to learn how to approach people. I can’t always rely on you, Kazama-kun!”

Kazama gave an awkward laugh, half wondering what he had unleashed. “Don’t pressure yourself!”

“It’s fine, it’s fine!” Tsukushi pulled that face he always made when he was about to do something very determined and probably very stupid. “If I try very hard, I’ll manage!”

\---

He did not, in fact, manage.

Kimishita’s father’s next acquaintance lived in a small apartment, and Tsukushi stood at the doorbell for a solid two minutes without getting himself to ring it, but stubbornly refusing to let Kazama help. When he finally did, it was only for a second before he let go of the button again like it was on fire, but thankfully that second was enough; a middle-aged lady opened, and he instinctively began apologizing for the disturbance until Kazama interrupted and explained things to her. They left with the promise that she’d get back to them and hot tea in their stomachs.

The next person lived just up the stairs and did not have a doorbell, so after a lot of hesitation Tsukushi forced himself to a weak knock. Of course there was no reaction. He pumped himself up and tried again, but panicked at the last second, and his knock turned into a half-hearted tap again.

Kazama tried to do it for him again, but Tsukushi still shook his head, and they would probably have stood there for an hour if an idea hadn’t suddenly popped up in Kazama’s mind. Reaching for Tsukushi’s hand, he wrapped it in his own and used it to knock on the door properly.

Tsukushi stared at him in surprise, though he didn’t seem annoyed. “What are you doing, Kazama-kun?”

Kazama smiled innocently. “Me? I didn’t do anything. You’re the one who knocked, I didn’t even touch the door!”

He half worried Tsukushi might be upset with him after all, but what he got in return was a warm, affectionate giggle. “Thank you,” Tsukushi said without the slightest attempt to withdraw his hand. “I still think that’s cheating, but... it helped!”

“Oh?” Kazama didn’t know why, but that comment had made him feel bold. “Would you like me to hold your hand next time too?”

Tsukushi blushed, but before he could give an answer, the door opened and they let go of each other’s hands like they were on fire.

The person after that lived a little further away, so for some time they didn’t have to worry about approaching people and holding or not holding hands. Instead they almost forcefully chatted about anything but that. Kazama was now almost glad Tsukushi hadn’t had the opportunity to answer his question earlier; it had definitely been over the line. Best to pretend it had never happened.

So when they finally got to the next door, he blinked and stared for a good moment when Tsukushi extended his hand.

“Wait,” he said, rather stupidly. “What?”

Now it was Tsukushi’s turn to get awkward and startled. “Ah, well, um, you offered,” he said, nervously flailing his hand about. “So if you haven’t changed your mind, well, I wouldn’t mind...”

“Dude,” Kazama blurted out. “I was kidding!”

Tsukushi’s hand dropped to his side. Embarrassment mingled with disappointment on his face.

_You idiot,_  Kazama mentally chided himself.  _Why the hell did you say that?_

“Well, not really kidding,” he babbled on, unsure what he was saying and hoping he would emerge on the other side with something that made sense. “I just didn’t expect you to say yes, I guess. Would you like me to hold your hand?”

Tsukushi gestured wildly. “Only if you don’t mind! Please don’t worry about it!”

“If  _I_  don’t mind? I’m asking if  _you_  don’t mind!”

“Oh... um... I don’t mind!”

“I don’t mind either.” Kazama gave him his widest grin and nonchalantly took his hand. He resisted the urge to intertwine their fingers. That would definitely be a step too far. “There you go!”

So they stood there now. Hand in hand. Probably looking extremely stupid.

“Thank you, Kazama-kun,” Tsukushi said with a smile. “It probably sounds a bit weird, but this really gives me courage!”

Kazama laughed and ruffled his hair with his free hand. “It’s not weird at all!” he said, hoping against hope that Tsukushi couldn’t feel how fast his pulse was going. “Happy to help!”

“You two are painful to watch.”

They both spun around, instinctively letting go of each other’s hands as if caught doing something forbidden. What met them was a familiar face.

“Ubukata-san!” Tsukushi exclaimed just as Kazama burst out, “Yikes.”

And sure enough, there was their manager, carrying an armful of books with library stickers and eyeing them in a mixture of surprise and irritation. “Don’t ‘Yikes’ me,” she snapped at Kazama. “What are you two doing here, anyway?”

“Errands,” Kazama replied, barely resisting the temptation to stick out his tongue at her. “And what are  _you_  doing?”  _And why did you just show up with the worst possible timing?_  he added in his head.

Ubukata stared at him like he had said something very stupid. “I live here?”

Immediately Tsukushi looked down at the list, then back at her. “But it’s not you we’re supposed to look for,” he said. “We’re looking for a Kuroda-san.”

“The pet store? That’s round the corner,” Ubukata said, pointing. “You want a goldfish or something?”

“Not your business,” Kazama replied in the most childish, petty voice he could muster.

“We need to talk to the owner for Kimishita-senpai,” Tsukushi said at the same time.

Kazama’s head spun around in betrayal. “Tsukushi!”

“Eh—Should I not have said that?”

Kazama sighed. “Never mind. It’s not like it’s a secret anyway.” Grudgingly he told Ubukata the short version of their errand.

“I see,” Ubukata said when he had finished. “And here I thought you were up to something more stupid.” She adjusted the books in her grip. “I know Kuroda-san. Want me to talk to him for you?”

Kazama exchanged a glance with Tsukushi. “How many do we have left?”

Tsukushi looked down on the list. “Just two, I think,” he said. “Kuroda-san and then—oh!”

His eyes went round, but he didn’t comment. “Thank you, Ubukata-san,” he said. “But I think I need to do this myself.”

She furrowed her brow, then her eyes flitted down to Kazama and Tsukushi’s hands, still hanging close despite no longer touching. “Suit yourself,” she said, heading towards the door. “See you at school.”

“Ubukata-san, wait!”

She turned back. Kazama, who had already relaxed and begun reaching for Tsukushi’s hand, barely suppressed a grimace.

“Um... What you said earlier,” Tsukushi said, fidgeting. “About us being painful to watch... um... what did you mean by that?”

For a second Ubukata looked so caught that Kazama couldn’t help wondering if she was onto him.

“You’re stupid and awkward, is what I mean,” she replied, her expression going back to normal. “If you want to hold hands, just hold hands. No need to go back and forth making a huge deal out of it.”

They blinked at her, then at each other. Their faces turned redder and redder in perfect sync.

“Oops,” Kazama said, grinning sheepishly as she disappeared through the door. “So she saw us, huh.”

Tsukushi nodded, looking equally sheepish. “Were we being that obvious?”

“I mean... we kinda are standing in the middle of the street, so...”

“But she didn’t mind.”

“Nope.”

Tsukushi furrowed his brow, staring very intensely at Kazama’s hand. Then, with a visible effort of will, he grabbed it and held on.

“Let’s go,” he said.

Their talk with Kuroda-san was still far from perfect, but Kazama was too elated over Tsukushi taking his hand to be of much help.

\---

“See? It’s not that hard once you get the hang of it,” Kazama said as they approached the last place on their list. “When in doubt, just tell yourself people like you better than you think!”

Tsukushi mulled over that for a moment, pondering the words. “I’ll try,” he said. “But it sounds difficult...”

Kazama smiled at him. “That’s what you’ve got me for. And all your other friends.”

Tsukushi returned the smile, then his expression grew doubtful again. “But what if that thought turns out wrong?” he asked. “What if I bother someone or annoy them or embarrass myself, or, um...”

“Then that’s what happens,” Kazama replied with a shrug. “You can’t please everyone all the time. Apologize and carry on.”

Tsukushi didn’t look very convinced. Kazama sighed. Of course he didn’t. He of all people knew that wasn’t how Tsukushi’s brain operated.

“Look, most of the time it’s just strangers anyway,” he said. “You’re never gonna see them again. Why should you care what a person like that thinks of you?”

Tsukushi furrowed his brow, deep in thought. This time Kazama had the feeling that his words had reached him.

Then he lifted his head, a new worry clouding his face. “But what about people who matter more?”

Kazama blinked, caught off guard. “Huh?”

“Like... like classmates,” Tsukushi said, “or teammates, or acquaintances, or someone you need something from... or even friends.” He fidgeted. “What if I mess up with them?”

Kazama paused.

Abruptly his own doubts, his own fears and worries flashed through his head. His feelings for Tsukushi. His fear of showing them too much, of coming on too strongly and scaring him off. His fear of losing the person who made him happier than anyone else ever had.

But Tsukushi didn’t need to know any of that. He just needed confidence, encouragement. A simple, straightforward answer.

“Even if you do,” he heard himself saying, “it’s okay, right? After all, real friends don’t mind if you make a mistake sometimes.”

And abruptly he himself stood baffled by his words.

Could he...?

If their friendship was real... did that mean Tsukushi wouldn’t mind if  _he_  screwed up the whole flirting thing either? Did it mean he wouldn’t instantly back away if he came on too strongly or overstepped a boundary by accident?

Wait, no, that couldn’t be right. Real friends or not, there was a limit to everything. And one-sided feelings were very high up on the list of instant friendship killers.

So even if Tsukushi actually liked him back and wouldn’t mind him stepping over all the invisible lines, Kazama would be damned if he proceeded without thinking. In a friendship like this, he’d rather be safe than sorry.

Especially since he really didn’t want to be abandoned again.

Tsukushi, thankfully, was unaware of all the thoughts spinning around in Kazama’s head. Instead his eyes grew very round, and then he nodded slowly. “That... makes sense,” he said. “I don’t know if I can believe it, since I always feel like I need to work hard to deserve everyone’s friendship, but, um—”

“Even mine?” Kazama interrupted him.

Tsukushi blinked. “Eh?”

“Even my friendship?” Kazama repeated. “You feel like you gotta work hard to deserve it?”

Tsukushi’s gaze dropped to the ground.

“W-Well,” he stammered, “please don’t take this the wrong way, but you, um... you’re so cool, and me, I’m just...” His voice trailed off.

Kazama tilted his head. “Just?”

“Just... me.” Tsukushi cracked a small smile. “It’s not that I don’t trust you or your friendship, but... some days I wonder what you see in me at all.”

“And you think I don’t?”

Tsukushi lifted his head, looking surprised. Kazama himself was baffled by his words. The question had left his lips without thinking.

“Let’s be real, man,” he said. “You think you’re just you, but I think I’m just me too. And you’re the guy who’s way too good and sweet for someone like me who keeps getting ditched by people. And you ask yourself if you’re good enough for a guy who drove away his own mom?”

Tsukushi flinched, and Kazama brought a hand over his mouth. Had he said too much? He had never meant to blab all of that out. All he had wanted to do was give Tsukushi some perspective.

“I’m sorry,” Tsukushi said softly, looking down, then suddenly he shook his head. “But that was when you were younger, and she came back since... And now you can keep people around just fine!” He lifted his head again, meeting Kazama’s eyes straight-on. “People can change, can’t they?”

Kazama paused.

Tsukushi was right, he realized. He had changed. He wasn’t the same person he had been in elementary or middle school. He wasn’t as prone to driving people away anymore. He had... softened, maybe. Or even matured.

He had known all that, of course, but hearing it from Tsukushi still made something untangle and unravel in his chest.

_I love you. I love you so much._

He wanted to shout it out loud, but all he could do was repeat it over and over in his head.

“Yeah,” he said, gently lifting his hand, unsure what to do with it and ending up lightly brushing it against Tsukushi’s cheek. “I guess you’re right.”

Tsukushi didn’t answer. He only looked at Kazama’s hand and then closed his eyes, slightly relaxing into the touch. Kazama pulled away. Any more of this, and he wouldn’t be able to resist the urge to kiss him on the spot.

“Anyway, my point stands,” he said as he walked on. “I only just got cool. So, same as you.”

“I’m not cool.”

Kazama smiled at him.

“You have no idea.”


	18. Hints and Second Guesses

That just left one more address to go.

Tsukushi had taken one glance at the list and his face had lit up. Without a trace of anxiety he had picked up his pace, leading Kazama around a few corners and up to the doors of a small bookstore.

“ _Honda Bookstore_ ,” Kazama read out the sign above the door. “You know this place?”

Tsukushi nodded and smiled. “I come here a lot,” he said. “This time I can do the talking for sure!”

Light-stepped, he went up to the door and opened it, barely giving Kazama enough time to catch up to him and hold it for him in a clumsy but hopefully gentlemanlike gesture.

Something jingled above the door as they entered. There was the thud of someone placing down a heavy box, and a friendly female voice shouted, “Welcome! Just a moment, please!”

“Good afternoon, Honda-san!” Tsukushi called into the store.

There was a stumble and shuffle, and then a chubby, kind-faced middle-aged woman emerged from between the shelves. She was visibly older than Kazama’s parents, let alone Tsukushi’s mom, but not quite old yet; her graying hair was pulled back into a messy bun, and there were wrinkles of laughter around her eyes.

“Tsukushi-kun!” she exclaimed and promptly wrapped him in a tight hug. “Why, I am glad to see you! It’s been so long since you last came here, hasn’t it?”

“Yes, I think so,” Tsukushi answered, half laughing, half struggling against her grip. “I’ve been so busy with the soccer club...”

“Oh right, you’re an athlete now! And I heard your team won the nationals, isn’t that right? And I haven’t even congratulated you!” The woman squeezed him again, prompting laughter and muffled protest.

“Thank you,” Tsukushi managed out when he had escaped her grip. “But, um... that’s not why we’re here today.”

Honda-san lifted her gaze, and for the first time her eyes fell on Kazama.

“Your friend?” she asked Tsukushi.

“Yes!” Tsukushi beamed. “Honda-san, this is my best friend and teammate, Kazama-kun! Kazama-kun, this is Honda-san. She’s known me since I was a baby.”

Kazama blinked, suddenly feeling like he had been introduced to part of Tsukushi’s family. Then he put on his most charming grin. “Nice to meet you!”

Honda-san stared at him for a prolonged moment. Tears glinted in her eyes.

“Bringing a friend to the bookstore...” she said, clapping a hand over her mouth. “Tsukushi-kun, I’m so proud of you! I thought you’d never find friends aside from Sayuri-chan!”

“Not to worry.” Kazama threw an arm around Tsukushi’s shoulder before she could tackle him with a hug again. “He’s got lots of friends on the team now! Right, Tsukushi?”

Tsukushi nodded and smiled.

“They grow up so fast,” Honda-san muttered and sniffled. Then, as abruptly as she had become emotional, she regained her composure. “Well! What can I help you with today?”

They began to explain, though they didn’t get very far. As soon as they mentioned Kimishita her eyes grew to the size of saucers with recognition, and they had barely managed to tell her about the idea before she already offered her help and chattered cheerfully about all the things she could offer and do. It took their united effort to calm her down again.

“Sorry,” she said at last, “I got a little carried away. But tell Atsushi-kun and Tooru I’d love to help! I’ll give them a call later too, to work out the details.”

Tsukushi gave a low bow. “Thank you very much, Honda-san!”

“But of course! And tell dear Atsushi-kun I said hi, and that he’s more than welcome to drop by again when he has time. Eri would love to see him again too, I’m sure!”

“Who’s Eri?” Kazama asked later when they had escaped from her affection and begun their way back to Kimishita’s place.

“Oh, Eri-san? One of my mom’s coworkers,” Tsukushi replied. “She lives with Honda-san. They’re a couple.”

Kazama did a double take.

“I can’t believe you just said that so casually!” he burst out, laughing.

Tsukushi blinked at him in confusion. “Eh—is there something wrong with that?”

“Not really. Most people just act like it’s a big deal, you know.” Kazama pointedly avoided Tsukushi’s eyes. “But you probably met them before you even knew that, huh?”

“Well, yes, I guess...”

There was an awkward pause. Kazama wondered if he should address the obvious.

“So, uh... you really don’t mind one bit, huh? If people are gay, or bi, or whatever.” Kazama ventured a glance at him. “Right?”

Tsukushi nodded, looking confused. “Why are you asking that now?” he said. “You’ve joked about Ooshiba-senpai liking Kimishita-senpai so often before...”

“Well, yeah, but those were jokes.” Kazama scratched his cheek, offering a lopsided grin. “But if I told you, say, that I like guys too... guys and girls both... would that be a big deal to you?”

“Not at all.”

The answer came so quickly and easily that Kazama almost walked into a lamppost.

“I mean, why should I?” Tsukushi hurried to explain. “It’s part of who you are, and I like you for who you are! No matter who you like, I’ll always support you!”

Kazama winced inwardly. This guy had no idea what he was saying. If he knew, he definitely wouldn’t have phrased it that way.

“Thanks,” he said. “But are you sure about that?”

Tsukushi looked up at him in confusion. “What?”

“You’re gonna support me no matter who I like? No exceptions?” Kazama tilted his head and hid his nerves behind a smirk. “Are you sure about that?”

The confusion on Tsukushi’s face intensified. “Of course.”

“Really sure?”

“Y...Yes...?”

“Really really sure?”

“Of course I am!” Tsukushi stopped walking. “Why are you asking like that?”

_Because I know it might not be true._

“C’mon, you don’t even know if I have good taste,” Kazama said, putting on a mock-scary grimace. “What if I like someone really scary? Or someone who’s a really bad person? I could be into really terrible people, you know!”

Tsukushi laughed. “I don’t think so.”

“Why not? We all have our dark sides.” Kazama struck a monster-like pose, making Tsukushi laugh even more. “But seriously,” he said, sobering up, “what if I liked somebody who’s not good for me? Who’s not gonna make me happy... or something like that?”

Tsukushi stopped laughing. For a moment he stood in silence, his face clouded with different thoughts.

“I think I would still support you,” he said at last, his voice quiet but determined. “I might be wrong about the person. You still know best what’s right for you. And if it does turn out to be the wrong one, um... I’ll just support you through that.”

Kazama looked down at the ground, then back at Tsukushi’s face.  _If only you knew._

He didn’t say that. Instead he said something else, something simpler, two words that conveyed all he needed to say. “Thank you.”

There was a pause. Tsukushi fidgeted, as if working up the courage to say something else.

“The person you like right now,” he finally said, avoiding Kazama’s gaze. “What are they like?”

Kazama swallowed.

How should he respond?

He could blurt out the truth, of course. It was an opportune moment. But something also told him the time wasn’t right. It was still too early to confess to him properly. Back on Valentine’s Day the hint had flown completely over his head; he still needed to be eased into the idea, or else this whole thing would go downhill very fast very quickly.

So... an obvious hint it was. Even more obvious than the last one. Maybe this time it would get through.

“Well... it’s a guy, actually,” he said, choosing to drop the bombshell from the start. “And he... he’s amazing, really. Sweet and caring and adorable, and he works really hard to make his friends and family happy ‘cause he loves them so much. There’s not a mean bone in his body, he’s just nice to everyone!” Kazama threw a glance at Tsukushi, just to strengthen the hint. “I haven’t known him for that long, but everything’s so different with him in my life. It’s really awesome!”

He smiled. Stared at Tsukushi. And hoped.

_Get the hint, get the hint!_

For a moment that felt like eternity, Tsukushi was quiet.

His face was hard to read. A range of emotions seemed to cross his face, or perhaps it was only Kazama’s imagination. He wondered if Tsukushi was going through all the people he knew in his head, wondering who the description fit. He wondered if the obvious answer would eventually hit him. It had to. It was right there.

Finally Tsukushi smiled, and Kazama’s heart skipped a beat.

“He sounds like a really amazing person! I’m happy for you, Kazama-kun!”

If he had been in a cartoon, this would have been the moment where Kazama face-planted the ground.

“Y...eah,” he managed out.

“I hope everything works out for you two!”

“Yeah... haha... me too.”

Kazama was reeling. It had been so obvious.  _So_  obvious. Completely, glaringly, in-your-face obvious. And the hint had still flown directly over Tsukushi’s head. How dense could one single person be? Even for Tsukushi there had to be a limit!

Unless he saw them as so strictly platonic that the thought simply wouldn’t enter his head?

Kazama suppressed a sigh. He couldn’t think clearly about this. He needed reasonable advice. Or at least semi-reasonable. Kiichiman and Hoshina would probably do. What was important was that he didn’t have to figure this whole thing out alone. That would only end in disaster.

_Dammit, nobody told me this whole love thing would be that stressful. I want a refund._

“...Kazama-kun?”

He gave a jolt. Had any of his thoughts shown up on his face?

“Uh, yeah?” he replied, trying his best to put on a semi-normal expression.

“You were spacing out a bit,” Tsukushi replied. “I was just wondering, um... do I maybe... know the person?”

Kazama perked up. Had it dawned on him after all?

“Why the sudden question?” he asked, trying to look calmly curious in the face of another onslaught of hope.

“Ah... just wondering.” Tsukushi fidgeted. “Just, if I know the person, then maybe I can give you advice, or help you get a date... or something?”

In a cartoon, now would have been the moment Kazama face-planted the ground a second time.

_Crap, what do I say now?_

If he said yes, Tsukushi would ask him who it was, and Kazama didn’t want to lie, but he also didn’t want to drop the truth. If he said no, then all his hint-dropping just now would have been for nothing. But saying maybe was a little weird too. Should he just evade the question? But Tsukushi’s trust...

“Don’t worry about it.”

Placing a hand atop Tsukushi’s head, he gently ruffled his hair and smiled. “I don’t think that guy wants to be anything more than friends for now. I won’t be needing a wingman anytime soon.”

“But...” Tsukushi stared at him, looking baffled. “What you said before—”

“Look, he didn’t get it when I gave him Valentine’s Day chocolates.” Kazama was back on track. “And every other time I dropped him a hint he didn’t get it either. Nothing’s gonna happen anytime soon anyway, so don’t worry about it.”

“Eh—he didn’t get it when you gave him chocolates for Valentine’s Day?” Tsukushi exclaimed in disbelief. “I’m sorry to say something bad about him, but he sounds stupid.”

Kazama could physically feel his soul leaving his body.

“Not really stupid,” he said on autopilot. “More... not ready, I guess. So I’m just gonna wait till the time is right.”

Tsukushi regarded him with curious eyes, then he suddenly smiled. “I hope it works out soon,” he said. “You’re so nice and cool, he simply has to like you back someday!”

_Whoever’s out there messing with me, can you quit it before I hit my head against a brick wall?_

“Thanks!” Kazama heard himself say, laughing. “I hope so! If he swings that way, anyway.”

“Maybe you could ask him!”

Kazama stopped short. That, he realized, was a scary but surprisingly good idea.

“You know,” he said, “maybe I’m just gonna do it next time I see him.”

\---

When Tsukushi got home that evening, he barely greeted his mother before stumbling into his room and flopping flat onto his back, lying spread-eagled on the floor and staring up at the ceiling.

His head was spinning, and his chest wasn’t feeling much better either. He was an all-around bundle of raw nerves, and his thoughts were spinning around his brain faster than he could follow.

A suspicion had formed in his mind. Not necessarily today; it had been haunting his thoughts on and off for some time, though he had always been pushing it back. It was wishful thinking, he knew that better than anyone else. But all about today’s round through the daycare’s neighborhood had brought it back to him stronger than ever.

He thought back to Valentine’s Day, the chocolates Kazama had given him, almost too good for a platonic gift. He thought about their walk today, Kazama’s hand curling around his own, once and again, staying there until they reached the Honda bookstore. His words. Their entire conversation.

Kazama had someone he liked. That person was a guy. A guy he had given chocolates to on Valentine’s Day. A guy who was dense. And then the description of his personality...

All the signs pointed directly to one person. But no matter how much Tsukushi thought about it, there was no way that could be right.

It had to be a misunderstanding. There was someone else. And Tsukushi simply hadn’t met that person.

Right. That had to be it. Kazama knew a lot of people after all. It was only given that Tsukushi didn’t know half of them.

No matter how much he wished he knew more.

_Best friend._  That was what Kazama called Tsukushi, so many times over that even Tsukushi’s anxious mind had stopped doubting the title. But in moments like this he couldn’t help feeling strange. Did he truly deserve to be called that when he barely knew anyone in Kazama’s life? Did he truly deserve it when Kazama wouldn’t even tell him who it was that he liked?

He wondered what else there was that he didn’t know. All these months, and sometimes Kazama still felt like a mystery. It had taken him so long to tell him about his mother, and longer to bring up his old team. What else was out there that Tsukushi had no idea about? What stories, what people? Could there be others out there who were almost as important as the boy Kazama liked, who Tsukushi had never heard of at all?

That thought felt strangely lonely.

He closed his eyes, trying to focus. He shouldn’t overthink so much, his mother and Sayuri and even Kazama himself said that all the time. And they were right, probably. But...

But he had been almost alone for so long. He had never had friends his age the way he did now. And he had certainly never had a friendship like the one he had with Kazama.

Continuing to be alone when that was what he had always been... he had thought that was scary. But the thought of becoming alone after getting a taste of company and happiness was still a hundred times scarier.

Sitting up, he viciously shook his head, slapping both his cheeks to get rid of the thoughts. Why was he thinking about all that? Kazama wasn’t going anywhere. Kazama genuinely liked him, cared about him, welcomed him and valued his presence. That he had proven often enough to convince even Tsukushi. It was only a matter of time until he opened up about the things he hadn’t brought up yet, only a matter of time until he trusted Tsukushi enough to tell him everything, no exceptions. All he had to do was keep it up the way he had in the past months and wait.

But for some reaon or another, that still didn’t explain how weird Kazama had acted about the person he liked.

Yes,  _weird_. That really was the only way to put it. He hadn’t been fully himself. The usual Kazama would have been more confident about it, not just today, from the very beginning. The usual Kazama wouldn’t have said something about his crush probably not being interested to brush off Tsukushi’s offer of help. When Tsukushi asked him if he knew the person he would have acted all mysterious and said it was a secret, and afterwards he might have added that he’d figure something out. But this... this was just plain strange. This had felt like Kazama simultaneously wanted and didn’t want him to know who it was.

_Does that mean...?_

Once again Tsukushi dismissed the thought. No way. Absolutely no way. No matter what Kazama said, they lived in entirely different worlds. Kazama was cool, talented, handsome, outgoing, popular, everything Tsukushi was not. They were in completely different leagues.

He was misreading the signs. If they pointed to him, it was only because of wishful thinking.

Tsukushi flopped back down. He should stop thinking about this, he told himself. Otherwise he would only delude himself and then invariably get disappointed. The person Kazama liked was not him. It couldn’t be him. It wouldn’t be him.

And wasn’t that fine? They were friends. Best friends, even. It was more than Tsukushi had ever hoped for. He was happy.

But every time they hugged, every time they held hands or stood close, every time they brushed together by accident, every time Kazama placed a hand on his without even seeming to notice what he did... the touches lingered. And long after he let go again, the spot he had touched would continue to feel warm.

Not that he should think about that. He was happy.

Mostly.

No, not  _mostly_. He was happy. He had everything he could wish for, reasonably and unreasonably. Everything beyond was simply outside his reach, and he shouldn’t bother even getting his hopes up. What he felt for Kazama was friendship. Anything that went beyond was just setting him up for disappointment. He shouldn’t give it any thought, and it didn’t matter. No use ruining a perfectly good friendship.

He had done the right thing earlier, going by the assumption that Kazama couldn’t mean him. Anything else would have ended in embarrassment. He just knew it.

So maybe it hurt. Just a little bit.

But it was okay. He just needed to ignore it, and it would stop soon. And then they could carry on like they always had, and he could be even happier when Kazama won over the guy he liked. Maybe they would even meet. He sounded like a really nice person.

If Kazama didn’t pull away after they got together. If Kazama didn’t start spending all his time with his boyfriend and forgetting about Tsukushi.

He wouldn’t blame him if he did, of course. He was sure the guy Kazama liked was a million times nicer and cooler and probably more handsome too. Besides, couples were just supposed to spend time together. That was as things should be.

Tsukushi closed his eyes and opened them again. His chest was heavy.

“It’ll be fine,” he muttered to himself. “Kazama-kun isn’t the kind of person who forgets his friends when he starts dating someone.”

_Though maybe I’m forgettable_ , added a voice in his mind.

Tsukushi shook his head vigorously. Kazama wasn’t like all those people in middle school who had barely noticed his presence. Kazama was different. It would be okay.

Really.

Definitely.

And that was all he would think of the matter. He wouldn’t start fretting. He wouldn’t start second-guessing things or jumping to conclusions. The person Kazama liked wasn’t him, and that was the end of it.

After all, everything else would have been too good to be true.


	19. Lies and Deception

The next day Kimishita was not at all surprised when Kiichi’s face popped up before his desk first thing in the morning.

“Hey,” he said. “Any news?”

Looking up from his notebook, Kimishita suppressed a yawn and once again wondered why he couldn’t ever have a morning in peace. “Are you bothering me just for that?”

“Yup. I’m curious,” Kiichi answered, borrowing the chair in front of Kimishita and sitting down, inconsiderately sprawling over most of the desk. “Did anybody agree to help out yet?”

“Bunch of people.” Kimishita leaned back in his chair to maintain some semblance of personal space. “My old man had to talk Honda-san from the bookstore out of doing everything herself.”

Kiichi furrowed his brow, thinking hard as he recalled all the faces he had met yesterday. “We didn’t see her.”

“No, Tsukamoto and Kazama did. Apparently she knows Tsukamoto.” Kimishita pulled his notebook out from under Kiichi’s arms. “But some of ours got back to us too.”

Kiichi eyed him with curiosity. “Like that granny who liked you so much?”

“Akira-san? Yeah,” Kimishita said, a faint blush of embarrassment crossing his face as he remembered yesterday’s encounter. The old woman had truly treated him like a grandson, gushing how much he had grown and praising his manners and offering him and Kiichi tea and cookies, and the most embarrassing part was that Kiichi had smugly agreed with everything she said. “She was one of the first.”

“What’s she gonna do?”

“She said she can’t help much herself, but she offered to buy whatever we need, paint or tools or something. And to bake for the helpers.” Kimishita snorted. “She even offered my old man to get her nephew into this too.”

Kiichi’s eyes widened. “Is her baking any good?”

“Maybe not to you spoiled brat,” Kimishita replied, “but to me it’s delicious.”

“That doesn’t mean shit.”

“Don’t eat it then.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“Fine,” Kimishita sighed. “Do whatever you want. But don’t complain if you don’t like our  _commoner food_.” He scowled sarcastically at the last two words.

Kiichi tilted his head and looked at him for a good moment. “You’re not picky with food?”

Kimishita furrowed his brow, wondering where this was going. “Can’t afford to be,” he said. “I eat what I can pay for.”

“So you like everything sweet?”

Kimishita’s frown deepened. “What are you getting at?”

“Nothing.”

“Good to know that even as the captain, you’re making as little sense as ever.”

There was an awkward pause.

“...chocolates.”

Kimishita stopped short. “Ah?”

“All the chocolates you greedy asshole got for Valentine’s Day,” Kiichi grumbled into the sleeve on his elbow. “You liked all of them?”

Kimishita thought back in confusion, though without seriously bothering to make sense of the mysterious workings of the idiot’s brain. “I guess,” he said. “Why?”

“And you never liked any... more or less than the rest?”

Okay, this was definitely getting weird. “I didn’t say that!” Kimishita snapped. “But why—”

Kiichi peered up at him through his fluffy bangs, and spontaneously Kimishita decided that he might as well tell him the truth. “There was one box of strawberry chocolates,” he admitted. “Those were my favorites... I guess.”

Lifting his head, Kiichi smiled at him so smugly that Kimishita almost regretted momentarily opening up.

“Looks like somebody really knows what you like,” he chimed.

Kimishita stared blankly, unsure what to make of that response. Then he shrugged. “Maybe,” he muttered. “Might’ve been a lucky guess too.”

Kiichi’s smile disappeared. “Nobody guesses that well.”

“Don’t know.” Kimishita shrugged again. “Don’t care.” He clicked his tongue. “Does it matter?”

“It does!” Kiichi’s cheeks flushed pink with an unexplained emotion. “Don’t you wonder who got them for you?”

Kimishita narrowed his eyes at him, more suspicious than ever. “What, you know something?”

Abruptly Kiichi shut his mouth. “...nope.”

“You’re being weird.”

“ _You’re_  being weird!”

“Don’t deflect it! Why do  _you_  care so much about  _my_  chocolates, anyway?” Kimishita glared at him. “You got enough yourself!”

“Well, I’m sorry I wanna know who likes you so much, asshole!” Kiichi jumped up with a huff, stomping his foot like a child throwing a tantrum. “It’s called caring! It’s my job as the captain, remember?”

Something about that comment irked Kimishita. It irked him very, very much.

“Your  _job_ , huh?” he repeated, standing up in his turn. “Is that it? If you’re forcing yourself to care about me because you think it’s your fucking job, then stop it before it gets any creepier!”

Kiichi flinched, and Kimishita knew he had struck a nerve, but he also couldn’t shake the faint feeling that he might have gone overboard. “Who’re you calling creepy, huh?”

“I’m not calling  _you_  creepy,” Kimishita tried to backpedal, “I’m saying it’s creepy to pretend to care when—”

“Oh yeah? I’m gonna show you creepy! I’m gonna get so fucking creepy right now!”

With that Kiichi spun around on his heel, stormed out and slammed the door behind him.

Kimishita was left behind, plopping back into his seat and wondering what the hell had just happened.

\---

“Good morning, Ubukata-san!” a familiar voice chimed behind her as she entered the classroom.

Groaning, Ubukata turned around to glower at Tsukamoto’s almost annoyingly friendly face. “Morning,” she mumbled around a yawn. “You’re so loud first thing in the morning.”

Immediately the big stupid smile disappeared, and Tsukamoto gave her an almost comically worried look. “Are you still tired?” he asked. “Are you sleeping enough, Ubukata-san?”

Ubukata gave him a long look. This guy was still traumatized by the time she had almost collapsed, huh. Couldn’t really blame him.

“I’m fine,” she said. “Not like I have any matches to prepare for. Stop fussing.”

“Really? I’m glad then—”

“Good  _mor-niiiiing_ , manager from hell!”

Ubukata grimaced. If Tsukamoto had been loud, Kazama was insufferable.

“Shut up!” she snapped at him. “One like the other, no indoor voice at this time of the day! You two so deserve each other!”

With that she crossed the classroom and plopped down in her chair, hoping no one else would raise their voice before at least ten o’clock.

Abruptly she found herself wishing Hoshina was here. Hoshina, she thought, always spoke quietly. He would definitely not bother her; most likely he’d simply stay silent until she felt like talking. Although, she mused, if it was him, she wouldn’t even mind a conversation at this hour of the morning.

“Oh my, someone’s smiling!”

Jolting out of her thoughts, Ubukata looked up to find Tomo standing in front of her desk, eyeing her with an unsettlingly knowing grin.

“I wasn’t smiling,” Ubukata replied.

“You were totally smiling! Right, Kaya-chan?” Tomo called over her shoulder to the third in their group.

Kaya, who had been entirely occupied with finishing her last-minute homework, looked up in mild irritation. “What?” she asked. “I’m trying to get something done, this better be important!”

“C’mon, you can copy mine,” Tomo replied impatiently. “This is about Chikako’s love life!”

Ubukata’s jaw dropped. “My  _what?_ ”

“Don’t deny it,” Tomo chimed, getting all up in her face and grinning. “You were thinking of someone and smiling! You never just sit here and smile out of nowhere. Especially not at eight in the morning!”

Ubukata scowled at her. “Maybe I was thinking of something funny, not everything is about love!”

“Oh? Care to tell us, then?”

“Not your business.”

“You’re right, Tomo-chan,” Kaya butted in, finally ditching her homework for good. “She’s definitely in love!”

“Not you too! As I was saying—”

“It’s Tsukamoto-kun, isn’t it?”

Ubukata stopped in her tracks. “Hah?!”

The question had caught her so completely off guard that her brain flashed an error message. The notion was so ridiculous that she didn’t even know where to start.

To Tomo, apparently, that was encouragement enough to keep going. “Don’t deny it, it makes sense,” she said. “You were talking to him just now, weren’t you? And now you’re sitting here, spacing out and smiling.”

“What in the—” Ubukata spluttered. “One thing has nothing to do with the other! In case you didn’t notice, I was yelling at him for being too loud and annoying—”

“Nuh-uh-uh. You yelled at Kazama-kun,” Tomo replied. “To Tsukamoto-kun you were almost polite. Bit telling, isn’t it?”

“Kazama is  _objectively_  more annoying!”

“It’s true though,” Kaya remarked. “You do have a soft spot for Tsukamoto.”

Well, Ubukata thought, that part wasn’t  _wrong_ , exactly. Tsukamoto was like a defenseless puppy; one simply couldn’t be mean to him without feeling bad about it for the rest of the week. And even if people tried to be mean, he would probably apologize to them.

But something told her it was a bad idea to try and explain that to her utterly delusional friends.

“Of course I can’t yell at him like I yell at Kazama,” she remarked. “He’d start crying and then I’d be the bad guy.”

“And you care about that?” Kaya replied.

Tomo nodded in understanding. “You never used to,” she said with a smile. “You sure softened up lately!”

Ubukata didn’t know what to respond to that. “So what if I did?”

“It’s the soccer club’s influence,” Kaya chimed.

“I’m not even denying that! You try babysitting an entire bunch of—”

“Tsukamoto-kun’s in the soccer club,” Tomo interrupted her. “And didn’t he inspire you to join in the first place?”

Ubukata gritted her teeth. “Listen—”

Kaya leaned over, getting all up in her face. “You know,” she whispered, “you don’t have to be embarrassed about it! Tsukamoto’s not the worst person to fall in love with, you know?”

“Great, but I’m  _not interested_.”

“Chikako.” Now Tomo was all up in her personal space too. Ubukata tried to pull away and found that she had nowhere to withdraw. “There’s no shame in having crushes.”

Oh, great. Fantastic. Did they really have to go all life coach on her, both at the same time?

“Now listen here,” she said with forced patience. “I’m not embarrassed about anything because I don’t have any feelings for Tsukamoto. I’m not in love with anybody. Get that into your heads already!”

They looked at her, then at each other, then back at each other, their combined stares too intense for her to withstand. “But Chikako,” Tomo said at last, “didn’t you try to give him chocolates for Valentine’s Day?”

Ubukata’s mouth gaped open. She hadn’t realized anyone had noticed her half-hearted attempt at all.

“I didn’t  _try_ ,” she said. “I wanted to and then changed my mind.  _Exactly to avoid misunderstandings like this one._ ”

She didn’t mention Kazama. He and Tsukamoto might be very obvious to her, and doubtlessly the rest of the team too, but she wasn’t sure she trusted her well-meaning but chatty friends with a secret these two hadn’t even shared with each other, let alone the rest of the world. She didn’t mention Hoshina either. She hadn’t brought him up to her friends at all, mostly to avoid teasing about supposed romantic feelings that probably weren’t there.

But now that she looked at her friends’ faces, she wondered if locking them out of the loop had truly been a good idea.

Calling their expressions  _sympathetic_  would have been a massive understatement.  _Sad_  might be nearer the mark. All two of them were looking at her like she had told them something utterly tragic instead of... well... that she wasn’t interested in her stupid classmate.

“What’s with those looks?” she asked irritably.

Tomo continued giving her the puppy-dog eyes. “Chikako...”

“Where’s your confidence?” Kaya finished for her.

At this point the last rational thought abandoned Ubukata’s brain, leaving her mind filled with nothing but an impressive collection of question marks.

“You’re so pretty,” Tomo said. “And cool too! Why should he not want you?”

How had they gone from... that... to  _that?_

“For the last time,” she attempted, “I’m not—”

“Don’t worry!” Kaya looped an arm around her shoulders. “We’ll support you!”

Ubukata was this close to either hitting someone else’s head on the desk or her own, but before she could do either, the door opened and their teacher walked in.

“Oh crap, my homework!” Kaya yelped and stumbled back to her seat, furiously scribbling away. Tomo returned to her own desk to hand Kaya her homework to copy. Ubukata stared blankly after both of them.

So, her friends were dead-set on the idea that she was in love with Tsukamoto for whatever stupid reason. They were utterly convinced that she was just embarrassed about it and too shy to make a move. And now they had decided to help her. Just when she had  _finally_  got the impression that things were moving forward between Tsukamoto and Kazama.

And that wasn’t even beginning to touch upon the topic of Hoshina. Hoshina, who she should probably tell them about at some point, even just to get them to shut up about Tsukamoto. Then again, given their attitudes, she wasn’t sure that would be a good idea either. They would try to play wingman and meddle, and she herself wasn’t even sure how much she liked Hoshina, exactly. Or if she wanted to make a move, for that matter. She still didn’t truly believe they were in the same league.

Yeah, there was absolutely no way this could possibly go wrong. No way at all.

She just hoped she could keep the ensuing disaster to a minimum.

\---

“By the way, Tsukushi.”

Tsukushi paused, looking up from his half-opened lunch. They were alone in the classroom now, Tsukushi remaining in his usual seat, Kazama sitting in front of him, dangling his legs off the desk. He had been strangely quiet all break. Several times Tsukushi had wondered if he should ask him if something was the matter, and several times he had thought better of it. If Kazama wanted to talk to him about it, he had told himself, he would do it on his own.

And now this serious tone... it wasn’t like Kazama at all.

“What’s the matter?” Tsukushi asked, trying to meet his eyes and failing, which only made him worry all the more. “Is something bothering you?”

“Hm? Ah, not really.” As if to show off how fine he was, Kazama picked up a bit of fried chicken out of his lunchbox and threw it into his mouth, chewing and smiling. “Since we talked about it, I’ve kinda been wondering... I know you don’t have anybody you like right now, but have you ever liked someone before?”

Tsukushi tensed. He tried not to let anything show on his face, but his hand holding the chopsticks froze in midair.

“I... don’t know,” he answered, avoiding Kazama’s eyes. Not really a lie, he added in his head. He really wasn’t sure how he felt about Kazama. But on a much deeper, more instinctive level he was too afraid to acknowledge, he knew exactly.

Kazama eyed him with an expression he didn’t know what to make of. “Huh,” he said around another mouthful of chicken. “So you’re not sure how it’s supposed to feel?”

Tsukushi fidgeted and nodded. “I guess...”

“Hmm... I’d try to explain it, but it’s kinda fuzzy.” Leaning back where he sat, Kazama gazed out through the window, watching the clouds. “I dunno if it feels the same for you as for me, anyway. But for me...”

His eyes glazed over, and Tsukushi knew he was picturing the boy he liked in his head. “It feels like... like even if you’re always with that person, you still don’t see them enough. You can be together all day and still feel like it hasn’t been enough when you say goodbye. And just... everything they do and say is so cute to you, and you wanna hug them and kiss them and cuddle nonstop, except you can’t until you’re dating. It’s kinda stressful.” He smiled, his gaze returning back to reality, brown eyes meeting with Tsukushi’s. “But really nice too.”

Tsukushi didn’t answer. His chest felt tight. Every part of Kazama’s words resonated within him. He knew it. He knew it. He knew every single one of these feelings.

Kazama was right. It was stressful. And it was nice. And he didn’t know which feeling prevailed.

He had tried to deny it. He had tried to ignore it. But with Kazama’s words, how could he? With the facts all set so clearly in front of his eyes, how on earth could he?

“So, yeah,” Kazama said after a moment of silence, visibly embarrassed by Tsukushi’s lack of response. “That’s how it feels to me right now. It’s not always that strong though.” He laughed, then quickly became serious again. “So, sound familiar?”

Tsukushi snapped back to attention.

Panic seized him. What should he say? He couldn’t possibly be vague on a question like this. Should he lie? No, he didn’t want to lie to Kazama. Should he tell the truth? But then what should he say if Kazama asked for details?

“Um...” he managed out, his hands shaking. “I, um...”

“It’s okay.”

Kazama’s hand came to rest on his shoulder, warm and steadying. “You don’t gotta tell me if you don’t feel like it,” he said. “I’m not gonna bug you.”

Somehow that only made Tsukushi feel worse, but he managed a nod. “Sorry... thank you.”

Kazama smiled at him, and Tsukushi wanted to crawl into a hole in the ground and disappear forever. “Y’know, I was just wondering,” he said. “We’ve been best friends for so long, and I don’t even know who you’re into.”

Tsukushi lifted his eyes. “As in... my type?”

“Maybe. Or even just...” Kazama’s gaze drifted away from him again. “I like girls and guys, but what about you?” He made an awkward pause that didn’t fit him at all, and when he continued on his voice sounded strange, almost distorted. “Girls? Guys? Both?”

_If he swings that way, anyway._

_Maybe you could ask him!_

_You know, maybe I’m just gonna do it the next time I see him._

No way. No way. No way.

This had to be a coincidence. It couldn’t be him. He couldn’t be the person Kazama liked. He couldn’t. He was misreading the signs. Everything else was impossible.

And so it was best if Tsukushi kept his feelings to himself too. Hid them. Concealed every tiny hint of them. Anything to avoid ruining this friendship, the best he had ever had.

The truth would be to say that he didn’t care what gender a person was, as long as he liked them and could make them happy. Kazama would understand. He of all people would.

But... that would allow the thought that Tsukushi might like Kazama too. And that couldn’t happen. It could never, ever happen.

“I’m... not sure,” he managed out quietly. “But... just girls... I guess.”

Kazama laughed and made a reply he couldn’t remember, but for the rest of the day things were strangely quiet between them.


	20. Keeping Up Appearances

_Just girls, huh._

Kazama tried not to show it. He tried to laugh and smile and keep chatting with Tsukushi as usual, but he wasn’t sure he succeeded. He barely remembered Tsukushi’s words, let alone his own. The smile on his face was so fake that half the time he wasn’t sure it was there at all.

Lunch break ended and afternoon classes began. Kazama forced himself to listen and take notes, but his thoughts kept trailing off. He tried not to look at Tsukushi. He tried not to think of their conversation either.

_No wonder he didn’t get all the hints._

Kazama swallowed, but the stubborn lump in his throat wouldn’t go away so easily. No wonder all his efforts had failed. No wonder Tsukushi had never figured it out no matter how obvious he had been. It had been a hopeless mission from the very beginning.

Why had he never thought about that earlier?

Why had he let himself fall so hard?

He should have known better. He of all people should have known better. How many times had he tried to flirt with oblivious guys, only to discover they were straight? Why on earth had he never tried to find out if Tsukushi was the same before falling in love? Why had he ever thought Tsukushi’s cluelessness might be different?

Then again, he thought... even if he had known from the very beginning that he didn’t stand a chance, would it have changed a thing?

Against his will his eyes drifted towards Tsukushi sitting beside him, scribbling away in his notebook, blissfully unaware of his thoughts and feelings. Kazama’s gaze trailed along his figure, taking in the smallest details. His small frame, the narrow shoulders. His fingers curled tightly around his pencil as he scribbled, as if afraid to drop it. His free hand resting on the open notebook, keeping the paper in place. The fluffy black strands falling into his face as he sat bent over his notes, brushing over his dark eyebrows that were furrowed slightly in concentration. His skinny legs crossed underneath the seat, toes pressing firmly against the floor.

Tsukushi. His best friend. The boy he had fallen in love with before he even understood what he felt.

His best friend who could never feel anything more than friendship for him.

He had tried to brush it off, but the truth was that Tsukushi’s words had taken his heart and shattered it inside his chest.

_Just girls. Of course._

He shouldn’t be bothered by that. In the past, he wouldn’t have been. But he guessed that was because he had never been really in love.

Kazama tore his gaze away from Tsukushi. Once again he tried to focus on class. His eyes fell on his notes, empty and unfocused.

This was it. He officially didn’t stand a chance.

Now what?

Should he distance himself from Tsukushi? The very thought pained him. And yet, wasn’t that what people did to get over a heartbreak? Stay away from the person they had liked until it didn’t hurt anymore?

But that would ruin their friendship. And if he pulled away now, Tsukushi would connect the dots, and things could never be the same between them again.

No way. He couldn’t let that happen. No matter the consequences, he never wanted to lose Tsukushi as his best friend. He wanted to keep him in his life. Even if he had to lie. Even if he had to bottle up his feelings and couldn’t get over them for weeks, months, years, however long it took. Even if it broke his heart even more. Tsukushi was so important to him. He made him so happy. Even just as a friend, he wanted to stay close to him forever and ever.

It would be hard. But he just needed to carry on like he always had.

Maybe it was a good thing that Tsukushi had never taken his hints.

Again Kazama’s eyes trailed to him, and again he pulled back his gaze. No need to keep looking at him when they weren’t even talking. He was already making this difficult for himself. No need to make it worse.

More importantly, he thought as he stared back at his notes, he should tell Kiichiman and Hoshina they no longer needed to play wingman for him.

\---

Afternoon classes ended without Kazama remembering a single thing. Together with Tsukushi he left the classroom and headed to afternoon practice, still talking and laughing mindlessly, about what, he himself couldn’t tell.

His chest felt empty. Everything around him seemed strangely removed, as if he was walking in a dream, real and yet not. Each movement, each step, each word took him an amost impossible effort, and yet he operated mechanically, without thinking at all. Every so often he thought he caught Tsukushi looking at him strangely and amped up his cheerfulness. Anything to avoid him noticing the truth. Anything to hide his feelings.

Then they got to the club room, and he was momentarily distracted from the empty feeling by an almost comically familiar image.

At the very back of the room, as far away from his usual spot as possible, Kiichiman stood sulking in the corner. On the opposite end Kimishita seemed very occupied with acting like everything normal, but it was all too telling that both captain and vice-captain pointedly avoided looking even remotely in the other’s direction.

“So, guys,” Kazama said with slightly more genuine cheer than he had felt in all the hours since lunch, “what are we fighting over this time?”

Neither of the two responded.

“Kimishita-kun,” Kazama tried again. “What happened?”

Kimishita clicked his tongue. “Nothing.”

“Kiichiman—”

“Nothing happened!”

“Aw, so you guys are just sulking in opposite corners of the room for what? A breath of fresh air?”

“I’m not sulking!” the two burst out in unison. Kazama sighed.

“C’mon, can somebody clue me in? Don’t tell me I missed all the fun!”

He looked around, but the others only shrugged and made helpless faces. Apparently they, too, had absolutely no idea what had happened between the stupid second-years.

“If you want to know what happened that badly,” Kimishita snapped at last, “ask the idiot.”

Kazama turned back to Kiichiman, who only gave a huff. “Ask the asshole.”

“Hey, what’s the big deal? It can’t be any weirder than the time you fought over a plastic plant!”

Kimishita whipped around. “How is it my fault if that idiot never noticed it wasn’t fucking real?”

“Oh yeah? It looked real as shit!” Kiichiman burst out, finally quitting his sulking to glare at Kimishita. “And you fucking asshole knew it and didn’t tell me for months!”

“Well, excuse me for not questioning your bullshit antics! I wasn’t sure you even have the IQ to know there’s a difference between plants and plastic!”

“I had to replace it ‘cause of you!”

“Look at you, the pauper who had to go without lunch and dinner after spending one thousand yen on a stupid plastic plant!”

“It was embarrassing, asshat!”

“Your stupidity’s embarrassing!”

Kiichiman turned red. “You take that back!”

“Okay, that’s enough!” Kazama chimed, stepping in between them. “That was two months ago, guys, chill—”

The two completely ignored him. “I will not take that back!” Kimishita yelled at Kiichiman. “You’re an embarrassment to be around!”

Kazama winced inwardly. Even without looking at Kiichiman’s face he knew this had been a heavy blow.

For a long moment Kiichiman was silent. He only glowered down at Kimishita with a mixture of emotions, looking ready to explode and lash out again or punch him in the face at any given second. But he didn’t. Instead he abruptly turned away and stomped back to his corner.

“Fine,” he muttered. “Then I’m not gonna be around you, since you hate me that much.”

Kimishita stared after him in a mixture of annoyance and incomprehension. Kazama couldn’t tell from his face if he was hurt too. Mostly he looked confused, a lot more confused than he had any business being.

“Sorry to say this,” Kazama said, “but that one’s on you, Kimishita-kun.”

Kimishita turned to glower at him, then he abruptly dropped his gaze. “Not my fault if he’s a sensitive brat,” he muttered in the general direction of his shoes.

“Nah, dude, you screwed up big time.”  _A lot more than you know,_  Kazama added in his head as he motioned towards Kiichiman. “So, you gonna apologize or are you gonna let him sulk there for the rest of the day?”

The look on Kimishita’s face changed to one of genuine remorse, but annoyance quickly covered it up again. “Who cares if he sulks,” he said, clicking his tongue. “I’m ready to talk to him when he’s ready to act his age.”

From the corner of his eye Kazama caught Kiichiman’s shoulders dropping a little at that sentence and instantly felt a deep solidarity. He made a mental note to talk to him in private later. Help fix the problem, maybe.

If it helped him forget about his own heartbreak for a moment, all the better.

\---

Practice was an absolute nightmare, and things did not get better.

Kazama had faintly hoped that playing together would make Kiichiman and Kimishita forget about their fight, but this time it didn’t help whatsoever. Rather than that, they didn’t even play together in the first place. Kimishita sent passes to anyone and everyone but Kiichiman. Kiichiman ignored Kimishita in turn and insisted on dribbling and trying to score when he could easily have passed to him. The rest of the team could do nothing but desperately try to maintain some kind of balance. It didn’t work well at all, and when it was finally time to go home there wasn’t one person in the soccer club who wasn’t relieved beyond measure.

The good news about it all, Kazama thought, was that at least for the moment he had been too occupied to think much about Tsukushi.

They hadn’t interacted much during practice. They had paired up for warmups, as usual, but Kazama had been quiet and tried not to touch him any more than necessary. And then they had ended up on different teams for the practice game, and Kazama had actually been relieved.

And now practice was over, and they could walk home together for a good part of the way. Normally they did, but right now Kazama didn’t feel like it at all. He didn’t want to stop doing it altogether. He just needed to gather his thoughts before he could return to acting normal, tomorrow or whenever.

So it was a relief that Kiichiman, too, looked like he needed someone to talk to about disastrous crushes and disappointment.

Glancing down at his phone as if reading a message, just to look less suspicious, Kazama tapped Tsukushi on the shoulder as they were about to leave. “Hey, Tsukushi?” he said. “You probably gotta go home without me today. Something came up.”

Tsukushi eyed him with curiosity, then mild concern. “Is everything okay?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah, sure! Don’t worry.” Normally Kazama would have ruffled Tsukushi’s hair as he spoke, but this time he limited himself to a lighthearted grin. “Just an errand. But it’s in the opposite direction, so you go on ahead.”

“Would... um...”

Tsukushi lowered his head. His fingers were twiddling and fidgeting, his shoulders tense. His voice was soft and quiet, hesitant, almost fearful. As if he was about to ask something terribly important.

“Would you mind... um... if I accompany you?”

Kazama froze. His chest tightened with a mixture of pain and blank panic.

“Uh...” Oh crap, this was risky. Tsukushi had gathered his courage to ask him that. If he said no the wrong way, he didn’t want to imagine the amount of damage he would do.

“Well,” Kazama said after an awkward pause, “you really don’t have to bother. It’s a bit far and nothing special, so...”

Tsukushi’s eyes flitted up in shy hope. “I don’t mind if it’s far.”

Kazama swallowed.

 _You idiot,_  he wanted to say.  _Stop saying that stuff when you crushed all my hopes earlier!_

He didn’t. Of course he didn’t. He wasn’t stupid.

Instead he ignored the acute pain in his chest and frantically thought of an excuse. This was bad. This was really bad. There was absolutely no way he could talk himself out of this without making Tsukushi sad.

Except, maybe... with the truth. Or part of it, anyway.

“The thing is,” he said, “I’m actually meeting somebody. You can come with me again next time, okay?”

Tsukushi’s eyes rested on his face, wide and blue, and for a moment Kazama dared to hope that he hadn’t screwed up completely.

Then Tsukushi’s face fell, and he hung his head as he nodded.

“Okay,” he said with a tiny, obviously fake smile. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“Wait, that’s not—” Kazama began to say, but Tsukushi lifted his head again, smiling even brighter without managing to cover up his disappointment. “See you tomorrow, Kazama-kun!”

Kazama wanted nothing more than to slam his head against a brick wall, repeatedly, but he smiled back and waved. “Don’t get lost on your way home alone! See you tomorrow!”

Then Tsukushi disappeared, and immediately Kazama regretted not walking home with him.

 _Chill,_  he told himself.  _What would you have done? Kept trying to talk and be happy to hide that you’ve died inside? You need a break, not more heartbreak._

He just really, really, really hoped he hadn’t messed things up with his flimsy excuse.

Forcing himself not to think of that, Kazama sat back down on the bench, pulling out his phone and using the opportunity to ask Hoshina to meet up too. It was a bit last-minute, granted, but might as well pull the entire Smitten Guys Anonymous group into it.

He sent the text. Then he waited.

It didn’t take long for Kiichiman to finish getting changed; in fact, Kazama suspected he would have been done ages ago if he hadn’t changed deliberately slowly to avoid meeting Kimishita at the door. Now that his vice-captain was gone, however, he got done very quickly and stomped out of the club room, only pausing in his steps when he noticed Kazama following behind.

“’Sup, Kiichiman,” Kazama said, a grin on his face and his hands in his pockets. “So, you and Kimishita-kun, huh?”

Kiichiman turned around. His face was red, his features pressed tight with bottled-up emotion. For a moment Kazama fully expected him to blow up and get angry.

Then, without warning, he grabbed Kazama’s shoulders, and the emotion on his face turned out to be not anger but deep, deep despair.

“Kazama,” he said, “he hates me!”

It took Kazama several seconds to process the words.

“Uh...  _what?_ ”

Kiichiman’s grip tightened. “He hates me.”

“Hates you? Kimishita-kun?” Kazama almost laughed out loud. “Dude, that’s the stupidest thing you’ve said all month.”

Kiichiman pouted, but a faint look of hope crossed his face. “He does.”

“No way in hell he does. This is  _Kimishita-kun_.” Kazama gestured vaguely over his shoulder. “You two always yell at each other, but in the end you’re still a pair of best buds. I’m pretty sure it’s physically impossible for him to hate you.”

Kiichiman stared at the floor, still pouting. “He called me creepy.”

“Been there, done that.”

“And embarrassing.”

“That one’s true.”

“Hey!”

“What? You’re objectively embarrassing. But I think Kimishita-kun actually likes that.”

Kiichiman stopped short. “What?”

“Have you seen the way he looked at Ex-Captain? He liked that guy and he was peak embarrassing. He likes it about you too, wanna bet?”

Scowling at the mention of Mizuki, Kiichiman let go of Kazama’s shoulders, glaring furiously at what was probably his mental image of the former captain. “I’m better than that Mizuki,” he said.

“Not the point,” Kazama replied. “I’m saying you’re his  _type_.”

He could pinpoint the exact second Kiichiman’s brain short-circuited.

“Let me explain,” he went on, smirking to himself and counting on his fingers. “Ex-Captain was a forward and ace, buff, and stupid as hell.” He met Kiichiman’s eyes. “Sound familiar?”

The gears visibly turned in Kiichiman’s head. His face flushed pink even as it lit up with fresh hope. Then he shook his head and turned gloomy once more.

“Maybe,” he said. “But I still fucked up.”

“Kiichiman with a defeatist attitude? Must be serious.” Kazama stuffed his hands back into his pockets. “You know what? Let’s grab a bite to eat, see if Mr. Touin Eyelashes joins us, and then you can tell us what happened.”

\---

Hoshina did show up. And so they found themselves gathered in their usual family restaurant, sitting at their usual table and slurping their usual drinks as Kiichiman told them all about his fight with Kimishita.

When he was finished, they both only stared at him in silence for an uncomfortably long moment.

“What,” Kazama asked at last, “and that’s it?”

Kiichiman pouted at his soda. “Yup. This is it.”

“No, no, no. Is that all?” Kazama wasn’t sure if he should hit his head on the table or burst out laughing. “That’s what you’ve been making all the big deal about?”

Kiichiman jumped up. “Asshole—”

“Look.” Extending his arm, Kazama caught hold of Kiichiman’s soda glass to steady it before he could knock it over. “The way I see it, isn’t he just salty you keep saying it’s your job ‘cause he wants you to care about him for real?”

He could practically see Kiichiman’s thoughts grinding to a halt as he plopped back down in his seat.

“Think about it,” Kazama went on. “He’s not mad you care. He’s mad you act like you just care like you have to. Right, Hoshina-san?”

Hoshina nodded solemnly. “That’s how I understood it too.”

Kiichiman looked like he was having an out-of-body experience.

“Oh,” he said. “Oh.”

Kazama smirked. “Yep.”

“So all you do,” Hoshina piped in, “is tell him you do care, and the problem will be solved.”

“Hm.”

“Don’t ‘Hm’ me, go do it.” Kazama gave him a nudge. “Pick up your phone, give him a call, easy as pie. Problem solved.”

“Hm,” Kiichiman said again, slowly pulling out his phone.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he answered. “Just wondering.”

“About what?”

“The whole shit about... how I’m embarrassing.” Kiichiman turned away. “And how he finds it weird when I try to act nice. But now it’s wrong when I don’t act nice too. Which is it?”

Kazama found he didn’t have a good answer to that.

“You shouldn’t worry about acting nice or not,” Hoshina said, turning his glass in his hand. “In times like this, I think you should just be honest.”

A realization dawned on Kiichiman’s face, and with his phone in hand he jumped up and ran out of the restaurant.

“So,” Kazama said when he and Hoshina remained alone at the table, “how’s it going with you and Ubukata?”

Hoshina shrugged. “No new developments.”

There was a pause, then finally Hoshina asked, “What about you and Tsukamoto?”

_It’s over._

The words lay on the tip of Kazama’s tongue. He was this close to speaking them out.

Then he swallowed them and put on a fake smile.

“Nothing new here either.”


	21. No Cause for Complaining

Walking home alone was a lot lonelier than he remembered.

Tsukushi had never made a big deal out of it. For all of middle school and large parts of elementary school he had always walked home alone, and it had been perfectly fine. It wasn’t like he’d had any friends to walk with, except Sayuri, who wasn’t in the same grade and had gone to a different middle school; he had been used to being alone.

Back then, he mused, he had spent his lonely walks daydreaming about having friends to walk home with. In hindsight it sounded sad, he realized, but back in the day he hadn’t minded. The daydreams had made him happy, and they had kept him full of hope that one day he would find friends in reality too.

But walking home alone back then, when his only friends had been imaginary, was completely different from walking home alone now when he was hyperaware of the gaping emptiness where Kazama should be.

And being alone with his daydreams was completely different from being alone with his thoughts.

Meeting someone, Kazama had said. Meeting who? And why had he seemed so uncomfortable with Tsukushi’s suggestion to join him? Kazama had never minded him meeting his friends and acquaintances or tagging along to places. Had he misunderstood something? Had Kazama always minded more than he thought? Or... was it just this once?

Kazama wasn’t meeting with the person he liked, was he?

Tsukushi slowed down. His thoughts moved faster. The more he pondered the possibility, the more sense it made. After all, if Kazama was meeting with a friend, why should he act so weird? And even if it was a relative, hadn’t Tsukushi met enough of Kazama’s close family to get invited along?

So this was happening. Kazama was spending more time with the guy he liked, and Tsukushi was left alone.

_Why are you surprised?_

Gazing down at his feet, Tsukushi forced himself to keep walking. He should have seen this coming. He should have known it would happen, sooner or later. No matter how much people liked him, in the end he was replaceable. In the end he could only be people’s first choice until they found someone cooler or nicer or more interesting.

He should have known. He had always been boring, after all.

Tsukushi shook his head. He shouldn’t think that. Kazama himself would tell him not to think that. He did always hate it when Tsukushi talked badly about himself.

That thought brought a tiny smile back on his face, and he resumed walking at his normal pace. He shouldn’t be so negative, he told himself. He was trying to unlearn that. Why didn’t he try thinking of something happier?

Like... like his mom, maybe. He could try and call her and ask if he could get anything from the store on his way home. Her voice would definitely cheer him up. At the very least it would make him less lonely.

And yet, for the entire rest of the day, his heart was heavy in his chest.

\---

“For once in your life,” Kimishita said from behind his impressive strawberry-garnished parfait, “I wish your behavior made sense.”

They were sitting in the same place where they had met with Aiba before, right down to the same booth. Except now they weren’t sitting squeezed next to each other; they were facing each other across the table, a pretty dessert in front of each of them.

How exactly he had ended up here, let alone why, Kimishita himself didn’t know. It had all just happened. It always  _just happened_  with Kiichi. One moment he was going normally about his day and minding his business, and the next he was roped up in the newest iteration of his forward’s nonsense. Hypothetically, he thought, there should be some kind of moment where he switched from one to the other, and hypothetically if he managed to pinpoint it he might just be able to escape in time.

In reality, however, by the time he noticed he was being roped into shenanigans, it was always too late.

In the present case, he supposed, the moment of minding his business had been arriving home and taking over to mind the shop while beginning to work on his homework. The switch had been the moment his phone rang and he decided to pick up despite seeing Kiichi’s name on the caller ID. The second he had heard the invitation, he had already known it was too late to get out.

Well, he could have said no, he supposed. That, however, would have started another argument that, in turn, would have set off a turn of events that, sooner or later, would have led to Kiichi turning up on his doorstep and either yelling at him or physically dragging him to the place he wanted to go.

Besides, he mused, why on earth should he have declined in the first place?

“I’m not complaining,” Kimishita said to Kiichi, taking a mouthful of parfait and struggling to hide his delight at the taste. “But I don’t get it. First you come to my classroom being weird, then you start sulking for no reason, and now you’re suddenly treating me to parfait.”

Kiichi very pointedly did not look at him but twirled around his spoon and played with his food.

Kimishita clicked his tongue. “What? If you want something, say it!”

“I don’t want shit!” Kiichi burst out. “I just wanted to do something nice.”

For a short moment Kimishita’s brain stopped in its tracks.

Then the irritation from this morning flared up again, and he set down his spoon. “Listen,” he said. “If you think of this as some kind of stupid obligation—”

“I don’t!”

Kiichi’s head shot up, and for the first time since this morning he was actually looking him in the eyes. “I’m not doing all this shit ‘cause I think it’s my job!” he burst out. “I’m just saying that! I keep doing it ‘cause...” His gaze dropped again, and his voice trailed off.

Kimishita sat uneasily, trying to ignore the strangely anxious, fluttery sensation that flared up in his chest. “Because  _what?_ ”

“‘Cause...” Kiichi’s face was red, his lips pouting, but his expression was sincere. “‘Cause I wanna.”

Kimishita nearly knocked over his parfait.

“You’re an asshole and poor as shit,” Kiichi went on, still not facing him, “but I still wanna do nice things for you. ‘Cause you’re my friend. And I care about you.”

Kimishita’s mouth gaped open.

Inside his chest the fluttery feeling intensified. His face felt uncomfortably hot. He didn’t know what he wanted more, slap this guy over the head or burst into laughter.

At length, what came out was, “Are you an idiot?”

Kiichi crossed his arms, his face flushing even redder. “You got a problem or what?”

“I do, stupid! Why the fuck didn’t you just say so from the beginning?”

Uncrossing his arms, Kiichi sat back, gaping in his turn. “Huh?”

“We’ve known each other since, what, seventh grade?” Kimishita clicked his tongue. “There’s nothing wrong with just admitting you care, moron!”

There was a very, very long pause.

“Oh,” Kiichi said at last.

“Yeah,” said Kimishita.

“Okay.”

“Yeah.”

Silence fell. Neither of them looked at the other. The sound of spoons clicking against parfait cups and dessert plates floated over from the neighboring tables.

“So,” Kiichi finally asked into the silence, “does that mean you care about me too?”

Kimishita gave a start, taken aback by the question. “Wha—”

“I care about you,” Kiichi went on. “But if you don’t care about me, I’m gonna stop doing nice shit for you. It’s too embarrassing.”

He hadn’t said it wasn’t worth his time or energy, Kimishita noted dimly. He had almost phrased it like he wanted to keep doing nice things for him even if Kimishita didn’t care.

He brushed off the thought. Probably overthinking.

No matter what Kiichi had intentionally or unintentionally implied, his answer would stay the same anyway.

“Idiot,” he muttered in the opposite direction. “If I didn’t care, you think I’d put up with even a fraction of your bullshit?”

Kiichi didn’t reply for so long that Kimishita’s curiosity won over his embarrassment and he turned back around to look at his face.

And instantly regretted his decision.

All grumpiness and embarrassment had disappeared from Kiichi’s face. Instead his expression was alight with so much happiness, so much pure, unfiltered joy that Kimishita felt something deep inside him soften up and melt.

“What?” he snapped defensively.

“You care about me,” Kiichi chimed, still beaming. “And you said it.”

“Of fucking course I do, stop being weird about it! I thought it was obvious!”

“You’re such a grumpy asshole and you said you care.”

Kimishita stopped short in his tracks.

Kiichi had a point, he realized. He might have been obvious to someone who knew him very well, but by any normal standards he hadn’t exactly been straightforward about caring. Especially not when it came to Kiichi, who he spent more time yelling at and calling names than anything else.

Kiichi usually deserved the insults, granted. But that didn’t mean Kimishita shouldn’t try and be a little nicer towards him, especially when he deserved it.

So he sighed, clicked his tongue, and made his very best effort to wipe the scowl off his face. It proved a lot easier than it should.

“Should’ve told me earlier,” he said.

“Told you what?”

“That I don’t say all this enough.” The scowl tried to make its way onto Kimishita’s face again, but he held it off with sheer willpower. “That I care... and all that.”

An awkward pause. Kiichi gaped at him in obvious disbelief.

“You okay?” he said.

Kimishita jolted back. “Wha—”

“You never say shit like that,” Kiichi said, reaching for his forehead. “You okay? Are you getting sick? D’you have a fever or something?”

“Wha—Idiot— _Stop touching me—_ ”

Reaching up, Kimishita snapped Kiichi’s hand from his face and wrestled with it in midair. Somewhere along the way their fingers tangled together, their palms pressing stubbornly against each other.

From one moment to the next Kimishita realized how absurd the situation was. Here they were, a parfait in front of each of them, holding hands across the stupid table.

He snorted.

“What?” Kiichi asked, stopping his struggle but not letting go of his hand. “What?”

Kimishita couldn’t help it. He cracked a grin, and the next moment he did something he hadn’t done in a long, long time. Especially not in front of people.

He burst out laughing.

“What?” Kiichi burst out again, visibly embarrassed this time. “What’s so fucking funny, asshole?”

With his free hand Kimishita gestured to their linked hands. “All of this.”

“Fuck off. It’s not funny.”

Kimishita simply continued laughing. “It’s stupid,” he managed out. “Nobody else would be stupid enough to turn a hand wrestle into holding hands!”

Abruptly Kiichi let go. His face flushed pink.

Then, suddenly, he too began to smirk, and the next moment they were both laughing, their fingers once more intertwined in midair across the table.

It was strange. It was ridiculous. But for some reason Kimishita didn’t want to let go. Kiichi’s hand was warm. It was also three sizes larger than his own, not to mention wider, but for some reason they still fit together comfortably. And Kiichi’s laughing face was a sight that still felt warmer than his hand.

Sitting together at a café over parfait, laughing together as they held hands across the table.

Kimishita could get used to that.

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he grabbed it by the collar and stuffed it away into the deepest corner of his consciousness. It felt  _nice_ , yes. But there was absolutely no need for his brain to phrase it like this.  _Romantic_. Kimishita wasn’t a romantic. Had never been.

But he still didn’t let go of Kiichi’s hand.

Little by little their laughter subsided, and what remained was a happy awkwardness neither of them quite knew what to do about. Kimishita tentatively loosened his hold. Kiichi did the same, and their hands dropped down on the table, no longer touching but still close enough to be within the other’s reach.

“So,” Kiichi said, “does that mean we’re friends again?”

Kimishita snorted. “Never said we stopped in the first place.”

Kiichi smiled. “Good.”

Kimishita tried to smile back, but his eyes strayed aside, dropping to their hands resting on the table. Part of him wondered what would happen if he reached out now and placed his hand on top of Kiichi’s.

Once again he stopped that thought and buried it. Touching hands across the table was yet more romantic activity, and he had already had his fill of strangely romantic situations for about the next twenty years. Any more of this and he would definitely get cavities.

And speaking of unnecessary sugar...

“Don’t mention it,” Kimishita said hastily, motioning to their desserts, which were by now in the middle of melting. “We should eat our parfaits.”

Kiichi took one look at his half-liquid snack and nearly knocked over the cup. “Shit!”

By the time they finished eating their parfaits had fully liquefied, but they still tasted fine. A little sweeter than they should, but Kimishita had never minded a little extra sugar.

They ended up walking together for a good part of the way home, and that, too, seemed unnecessarily sweet.

But who was Kimishita to complain?

\---

Kazama went home wondering if he should have talked about it after all.

No, he thought, there was no need to wonder; he definitely should. He, Kiichiman and Hoshina: the three of them had a deal. If he didn’t tell them that he didn’t need their help anymore, they would keep trying to meddle, and then Tsukushi might just figure out the truth despite his efforts. Besides, it just plain wasn’t fair towards them. They were trying to help him after all.

But he also really, really, really didn’t want to talk about it.

This wasn’t the ordinary frustration with Tsukushi’s cluelessness. This was an entire heartbreak, the first one in his life, at least the first romantic one. This was serious. Too serious to talk about.

Did he have a problem?

Most likely, Kazama thought. Bottling things up and pretending to be fine wasn’t exactly the dictionary definition of healthy. But what was he supposed to do? Change his whole attitude overnight, just like that?

Besides, if he talked about serious things to anyone, shouldn’t it be Tsukushi, his best friend, before anyone else?

Except, once again, Tsukushi was the one person he couldn’t talk about this to.

Oh, great. He was in a loop here. He didn’t want to talk about serious things until he had told Tsukushi. But this right here was what he couldn’t tell Tsukushi; that was what this whole problem was about in the first place.

So, what should he do?

Break character and talk to the others?

He very much didn’t want to do that.

As he still strolled down the streets, contemplating, his phone buzzed, and in the silly hope that it might be Tsukushi he pulled it out of his pocket.

It was not Tsukushi, he realized as he glanced at the screen. It was Hoshina.

And he shouldn’t be so disappointed, he told himself. What had he been expecting? He had sent Tsukushi off with a cheap excuse, after being asked if he could come along, no less. Of course it would be some time until Tsukushi reached out to him again. He always tended to withdraw in the face of anything he saw as rejection, as if afraid of being thought clingy.

Kazama’s disappointment quickly faded, however, once he skimmed over Hoshina’s message.

_I don’t mean to pry,_  it read,  _but are you sure you don’t need to talk to us about anything? You seemed a little out of it earlier._

Kazama paused in his steps. Had he been that obvious? That was bad. Had his acting skills worsened since entering high school?

Well, he mused, it had been some time since he had last needed to hide a bad feeling.

But most importantly... what was he supposed to reply now?

Hoshina had noticed something was up. Hoshina was asking him directly. That meant he only had to disclose part of the truth; the rest had already been figured out for him.

He could still lie, the devil on his shoulder whispered. He could still claim Hoshina had been imagining things. It would seem believable. Hoshina Takumi barely knew him outside this whole wingman business, after all.

But, said the angel on his other side, maybe this message was a sign that he should open up after all.

And in any case he would probably regret it later if he didn’t.

So he sighed, leaned against a lamppost, and typed a reply.

_oops_ , it read.  _ive been knew ;P_

Hoshina’s reply was almost instant.  _Is something the matter?_

This was his last chance to lie his way out of it, a voice whispered in Kazama’s head. He ignored it. What the hell, might as well admit the truth.

_tsukushi sorta told me hes not into guys lmao_

He just hoped the lighthearted tone more or less covered up how much he suddenly felt like crying.

Hitting the Send button, he closed his eyes, waiting for a response. For a long, almost unbearable moment there was nothing but silence. As if Hoshina had been so baffled by the news that he didn’t know what to reply.

_Yeah,_  Kazama thought,  _me too._

At last his phone buzzed, and Kazama slowly opened his eyes again. His chest felt tight, a lump still stuck inside his throat. He barely dared to look at the reply.

And blinked.

Hoshina’s response read,  _Are you sure? No way you could have misunderstood it?_

_I wish._

_lol nope_ , Kazama wrote back. _i asked him who he liked and he said “jst girls i guess” so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯_

Another pause. And then...

_I’m very sorry to hear that._

And Kazama knew. He just knew.

If even one of his wingmen didn’t think there was still a chance, then it really was lost. It was over. Beyond all hope.

He wanted to cry. Or punch something. Or just grab everything and run away to the end of the world, hoping that someday, eventually, he would be too far for the feelings to follow. He didn’t know which.

He didn’t do any of these things. This was fine. He was fine. He was an expert at hiding sadness and heartbreak.

So he forced himself to smile and typed yet another reply.

_ill manage lmao_ , he wrote.  _so whos gonna tell kiichiman?_

\---

The next morning Tsukushi lingered at the school gate, not yet ready to head to the classroom and face Kazama again.

He didn’t know what was wrong with him. Yesterday might have been a little awkward, but Kazama was still his best friend. There was no reason why things would still be awkward between them now. Kazama had probably forgotten about yesterday’s exchange already, and Tsukushi was here overthinking.

And yet here he was, afraid to move an inch.

“You’re blocking the way.”

A hand on his shoulder startled him out of his thoughts. Glancing up, his eyes met with Ubukata’s, who looked at him with a mixture of confusion and mild annoyance.

“Why are you still standing around here?” she asked. “You should already be in the classroom.”

Tsukushi jolted and then fidgeted. “Um...” he managed out. “Well, um...”

“Whatever, not my business.” Ubukata made a dismissive gesture and kept walking. “Tag along with me if you want. Just don’t talk too much.”

“Sorry... um... I’ll follow soon!”

“‘Kay,” Ubukata muttered and disappeared towards the classrooms.

Tsukushi turned around to find Kurusu, Nitobe and Shiratori staring at him with strangely intense eyes.

“Um...” he said, looking from one to the other. “Is something the matter?”

“People were right,” Shiratori said.

Tsukushi blinked at him in incomprehension. “Eh?”

“I know,” said Nitobe. “I didn’t believe it either, but now I can just see it.”

“What? What—”

“Ubukata.”

Stepping forward into his space, Kurusu lowered his voice, as if afraid their manager might come back and overhear their conversation.

“I think people are right,” he whispered. “She really does like you.”


	22. Wagging Tongues

Tsukushi’s brain flashed an error message.

He didn’t know what or where exactly, but there had to be some kind of mistake here. Somebody, at some point, must have made a mix-up of epic proportions.

Ubukata? Him? Like him? Ubukata did? That didn’t sound right on so many levels he didn’t know where to start.

He didn’t say all that out loud, though he had no doubts it showed all over his face. What he did say was, “Um... are you sure?”

“Dude, she obviously does,” said Shiratori.

“Exactly!” said Nitobe. “She just invited you to walk to the classroom with you!”

Tsukushi looked from one to the other and then towards the school building, trying and failing to decipher how that simple invitation could possibly translate into romantic feelings.

“She never does that with anybody,” Kurusu provided helpfully. “Especially not with guys.”

Tsukushi mulled over that for a moment, then found that he still didn’t get it.

“She was just being friendly,” he said. “I think.”

“Yeah,” Nitobe replied, “and that’s already a lot for  _Ubukata!_ ”

The other two nodded. Tsukushi gave up on trying to make sense of their logic and changed his approach.

“So where did you hear that she likes me?” he asked. “Since you said that you didn’t believe it at first either, um...”

Nitobe gave him a look like he had just said something exceptionally stupid. “The whole class is talking about it.”

“You haven’t heard?” Shiratori added.

Tsukushi shook his head.

“I think some of the guys overheard her friends talking to her about it,” Kurusu said. “She was denying everything, but you know how she is.”

Tsukushi didn’t answer that he thought she had very much meant every part of her protests.

He also didn’t dare ask his friends if Kazama had heard the rumor too. He didn’t even ask himself how he would feel about it if it turned out he had.

What he did do was force a helplessly awkward smile and hope for the best.

“Tsukamoto?”

He gave a start, suddenly realizing he had been spacing out and hastily scrambling to zone back in. “Yes?”

Kurusu furrowed his brow at him. “You okay? You’re looking a bit pale.”

“Yes... no... yes, I’m fine!” Tsukushi gestured frantically, backing away. “Sorry! I have to go to later! See you class... no, wait, the other way around... um...”

Before he could get tangled in his words any further, Tsukushi spun around on his heel and, his previous fear forgotten for the moment, darted off to the classroom.

Only to almost collide with a familiar figure.

“Whoa!” Kazama exclaimed, stumbling backwards and holding out his hands to steady them both. “Tsukushi?”

Tsukushi’s brain short-circuited in its attempt to switch from one panic mode into the other.

“K-Kazama-kun,” he managed out.

Kazama, it seemed, hadn’t noticed the state of his nerves yet, or if he had, he didn’t comment on it. “There you are!” he said instead, cheerful as ever, the small functioning part of Tsukushi’s brain registered with relief. “I was already wondering where you’ve been!”

The question felt familiar, and Tsukushi’s stressed-out mind relaxed momentarily before he realized he had to think of an excuse for his delay. “Sorry,” he blurted out, more to buy time than anything else. “I, um... left home a bit late.”

It was a flimsy excuse, but it seemed to satisfy Kazama. “No way!” he exclaimed, grinning and laughing. “Next thing you’re gonna start oversleeping and being late, you little rascal!”

He didn’t try to hug Tsukushi, or ruffle his hair, or touch him at all. Even though he never made such comments without playfully touching him, Tsukushi noted even as he smiled.

“I hope not,” he said out loud. “I’m not tall enough to climb the school gate.”

“Not yet!” Kazama pointed finger guns at him. “Sleep makes you grow, so if you start sleeping in you’re gonna be able to climb it in a heartbeat!”

“That’s not how it works,” Tsukushi replied, but he couldn’t help laughing anyway.

“It totally does! Wanna bet?”

Tsukushi laughed even more, then his heart sank. Kazama really had stopped touching him entirely. At this point it seemed like he was making a conscious, deliberate effort not to.

His smile wavered. Had something happened? Was something wrong after all? Kazama had been weird since yesterday. Had Tsukushi messed up somehow? Had he done something to scare him off or make him upset? Things had been different ever since—

Since after lunch yesterday.

Had he messed up during lunch break, then? Had he said something stupid? Done something stupid?

For a split second an explanation hovered in his head, entirely logical and yet too comforting to be anything more than wishful thinking. It couldn’t be  _that_. Whatever else it was, Tsukushi couldn’t, no, shouldn’t jump to conclusions. He would only get disappointed.

It had to be something else, and he couldn’t think of an explanation. At least he couldn’t think of one that was actually realistic.

Before he could think any further, the bell rang, and he and Kazama both took their seats as Tsukushi wondered if he was more glad or disappointed that they hadn’t managed to talk more.

\---

Tsukushi had seemed a little out of it all morning, despite Kazama’s best efforts to show him everything was okay.

So he wasn’t touching him anymore, fine. That was a necessary sacrifice. He had been decidedly too flirty with Tsukushi lately; he needed to back away for the sake of their friendship. Even if Tsukushi himself had thankfully not figured out his intentions, it would be awkward if other people caught on and started spreading rumors.

Besides, and that was the realer reason, hugging and touching Tsukushi like before would simply be a little too painful at the moment.

Aside from that, however, he was doing everything in his power to act as normal as possible.

And yet his efforts didn’t seem to be working. Either that, or Tsukushi was bothered by something else entirely. In which case he needed to know what was going on.

So, when they were alone in the classroom at lunch again, he leaned over to him and whispered, “Hey... is everything okay?”

Tsukushi gave a jolt, clearly startled out of his thoughts. “Eh?”

“You’re a bit spaced out.” Kazama motioned gently at him. “Something bothering you?”

Squirming in his seat, Tsukushi twiddled his fingers, not meeting Kazama’s gaze. It was clear that he was struggling with himself, internally debating if he should tell Kazama or not.

“It’s... it’s something a bit stupid, really,” he said quietly, his fidgeting intensifying. “Just, um... there’s a rumor going around, and I don’t know what to think...”

Kazama’s heart skipped a beat, and for a split second he wondered if people had figured him out and started talking. He didn’t let any of that show. “A rumor?”

“Yes.” Tsukushi looked ashamed as he spoke; not like someone embarrassed about the contents of the rumor themselves, more like someone feeling like he was stepping out of line with his words. “People are saying that... that Ubukata-san likes me.”

Kazama’s heart dropped down into his guts, but differently from the way he had expected.

“That girl? Like you?” He laughed out loud. “C’mon, what would the Demon Queen ever want with somebody as nice as you?”

“I don’t know,” Tsukushi answered, hanging his head. “I don’t believe it either, but Kurusu-kun and Nitobe-kun and Shiratori-kun all heard it and they do... They’re the ones who told me.”

The doubt in Kazama’s chest intensified, but for Tsukushi’s sake, he resolved not to let it show.

Instead he laughed again, making a dismissive gesture. “That’s just people talking,” he said. “You really wanna believe these guys? They barely know how to talk to girls, let alone tell if one likes them!”

His joke had the desired effect; Tsukushi cracked the tiniest smile. “That’s true...”

“And hey,” Kazama added, piling joke upon joke to make that smile grow. “You really gonna believe them over me, the hottest guy in the grade?”

Tsukushi let out a tiny laugh. “Well...”

For a moment it looked like the crisis had been averted, then a thought seemed to pass over Tsukushi’s face, and he turned gloomy again.

“I don’t know,” he said quietly, his gaze resting heavily on the desk. “The others said they didn’t believe it either until they saw me talking to her.”

Deep inside Kazama’s mind the doubt grew. Had he misjudged things after all? Were the rumors right, and Ubukata didn’t like Hoshina but Tsukushi?

“Who knows,” he said non-commitally. “Who started the rumor, anyway?”

Tsukushi shrugged. “I don’t know. Apparently some people overheard Ubukata-san’s friends talking to her about it.”

Kazama tensed.

That still didn’t have to mean much, he tried to tell himself. Friends could be wrong. Ubukata didn’t strike him as the person who told anyone who she liked, not even her girls. Besides, there was always the chance that whoever had started the rumor had lied about overhearing anything at all.

He didn’t say all of that. Tsukushi most likely knew it all himself. Instead he asked another question.

“Does it bother you?”

Tsukushi blinked up at him in question. “Bother me?”

“The rumor.” Kazama leaned a little closer, his tone quiet and understanding. “Is it people talking that’s got you so out of it?”

Tsukushi thought for a moment, then he slowly shook his head. “Not really.”

“Then what? Are you...” Kazama’s mouth was dry, and he swallowed. “Are you worried... the rumors are true?”

Again Tsukushi mulled over the question, then he shrugged again. “I don’t know,” he said. “Not really, I think.”

Kazama’s heart skipped a beat.

“So...” he ventured. “You wouldn’t mind... if it turned out to be true?”

Did he sound too desperate? Probably. Not that he cared right now.

Tsukushi, however, shook his head once more. “That’s not it,” he muttered, gazing at the desk once more. “It’s more that... I’m not scared because I can’t imagine it being true.”

A giant weight tumbled off Kazama’s chest and disappeared into nothing.

“Then what’s got you so bothered?” he asked calmly.

For several slow heartbeats Tsukushi stared at his own fingers in silence, deep in thought.

“It doesn’t seem right,” he said at last. “This rumor... people thinking Ubukata-san likes me of all people. I mean, she’s Ubukata-san. And I’m just...” He smiled helplessly. “I’m just me.”

A suspicion dawned on Kazama’s mind, heartbreaking and faintly hopeful.

“Wait,” he said. “You think she’s out of your league or something?”

Tsukushi nodded. “That too. If people went around saying you’re the one she likes... that would make so much more sense.”

“Not to me.” Kazama gave a wry grin. “We’d already have killed each other if you hadn’t been around.”

Tsukushi gave a quick laugh. “That’s true,” he said before sobering up again. “But still... you’re so cool, and nice, and handsome, and, and... I’m just...” His shoulders dropped. “I’m just there.”

_Are you stupid? You’re perfect and you don’t even see it._

Kazama swallowed down that sentence before it could leave his lips. No matter how much he wanted to say it, it wouldn’t help him here.

So he only sat there, quietly, listening and encouraging him to go on with a nod and a smile.

“And, well, um...” Tsukushi’s voice was very quiet now, soft and vulnerable and so full of honesty it filled Kazama’s chest with an emotion he couldn’t name or explain.

“To be honest... I can’t picture anyone falling in love with me at all.”

_I can,_  Kazama wanted to say.  _It’s so easy. It’s so easy you have no idea._

Instead he smiled gently and said, “Why not? You’re quite a catch.”

Tsukushi went pink and raised his hands in a protesting gesture. “This isn’t a joke, Kazama-kun—”

“I wasn’t kidding.” Kazama’s expression was completely serious now. “You’re sweet, you’re caring, hardworking, honest, and you’re a good friend.” He propped up his face on his hand, gazing up at Tsukushi from a low angle. “A lot of people look for that in a guy.”

Tsukushi’s gaze flitted up to meet Kazama’s. There was an odd shine in the blue of his eyes, an emotion Kazama couldn’t describe or comprehend.

Several times his lips moved, as if trying to form words and failing. Then, finally, he spoke, very softly and hesitantly, his voice filled with a strange undertone that felt almost sad.

“You think?”

Kazama smiled. “I know.”

Tsukushi looked back down, staring at the tips of his fingers. His face was even redder now, but it was hard to tell what he was thinking. He wasn’t smiling. The corners of his mouth twitched slightly, a glint of what looked like hope crossing his features, then he bit his lips, fidgeting. From one moment to the other he looked almost heartbroken.

Did he still not believe it, Kazama wondered? He couldn’t tell what he was thinking at all. It wasn’t like Tsukushi to get so sad at compliments. Especially not from Kazama.

Ah, damn it. For so long he had felt like he had figured him out, and now he was here stuck in the dark again, helpless and clueless.

Should he ask him what was wrong? Then again Kazama had the faint suspicion that even if he asked, Tsukushi wouldn’t tell.

Which didn’t mean he shouldn’t try it anyway.

“Something wrong?”

Jolting, Tsukushi blinked at him, visibly startled out of his thoughts. “Eh?”

“You don’t look happy.” Kazama motioned at his face. “Still don’t believe me?”

Tsukushi didn’t meet his eyes. There was a long pause.

Then, abruptly and forcefully, he smiled.

“Everything’s okay,” he said. “Don’t worry about me.”

Kazama knew without doubt that he was hiding something, but he had no idea what else to ask.

\---

After lunch Kazama took to observing Ubukata in class, closer than he ever had before.

Were the rumors true? Did she actually like Tsukushi? He couldn’t imagine it. He had always thought she liked Hoshina and only viewed Tsukushi as a friend. Maybe he was biased, in more ways than one, but he had always thought Hoshina made a much better match for her anyway.

But then again, he had also thought he stood a chance with Tsukushi.

He had always had faith in his own judgment, but was it really justified? What if he was wrong? What if Ubukata did like Tsukushi and not Hoshina? Could the rumors be true after all? If her own friends were the reason they had started in the first place...

And if it was true, what would he do about it?

_Just girls._  So no matter how compatible or incompatible they were, Ubukata would stand a better chance with Tsukushi than Kazama ever would, just on account of being a girl.

And once Tsukushi got over thinking of himself as unlovable... what would happen?

_Just stop thinking._

Kazama pushed his musings to the back of his mind in irritation. So what if Ubukata liked Tsukushi? So what if Tsukushi ended up liking her back? They were all eventualities. And even if they ended up being true, so what? Kazama was trying to get over his feelings anyway.

That was right. The only reason why he should be interested in this business was because of Hoshina.

Hoshina. Should he tell him about the rumor? It might be overreacting. For all he knew, doubt and mild panic aside, it was probably nonsense. But at the same time it would probably be unfair to hide it from him too, in case there was some truth to it.

He could always confront Ubukata and ask her about the truth, he mused.

Then again Ubukata was Ubukata. Who hated admitting her feelings. And who definitely didn’t trust him enough to admit them to  _him_ , anyway.

So, what should he—

_Wait._

A small lightbulb flickered on in his head. Hoshina had never asked him and Kiichiman to wingman him with Ubukata, he realized. He had asked them for help in figuring out his feelings.

Well, he thought. That settled it for sure.

\---

The table at the family restaurant was quickly turning into their regular meeting spot.

It was Kazama who had arranged the meeting here again, but this time it was just him and Hoshina. Ooshiba had apparently excused himself, saying something about meeting with Kimishita again to plan out the details of the store renovation. Hoshina idly wondered if Kazama had told him the bad news about Tsukamoto yet.

He didn’t ask, at least for the time being. That wasn’t the reason why Kazama had called him here today. He had asked him to meet up for something else, and apparently it had something to do with him and Ubukata.

“So,” he asked therefore, getting straight to the point, “what is it you wanted to tell me?”

Kazama gave him a very lopsided grin. “I’m gonna be straight with you,” he said, “it’s not  _great_  news. I’m not gonna jump to conclusions and call it  _bad_  news, but it’s not really good for sure.”

Hoshina straightened up in his seat. Worry flashed through him. Bad news? Related to Ubukata? That combination sparked a series of memories.

“Not good?” he repeated, frowning in concern. “Did something happen? Is she okay?”

“She’s fine! Nobody collapsed this time, don’t worry,” Kazama said, laughing as Hoshina relaxed. “It’s more... well, it’s a rumor.”

Hoshina furrowed his brows. How could a rumor at Seiseki possibly concern him? “A rumor?”

“Oh yeah. I have no clue if it’s true or if people are just making stuff up, but people say her friends first talked about it, so, you know.” Leaning forward, Kazama lowered his voice, as if afraid of being overheard. His expression took a conspiratorial glint as he spoke.

“People say she likes Tsukushi.”

Hoshina stopped in his tracks.

“Like I said though, it’s just a rumor,” Kazama chattered on as if nothing had happened. “Could mean anything.”

He was right... but...

But for some reason Hoshina still felt like he had received a slap in the face.

People were saying Ubukata liked Tsukamoto. People were spreading rumors. And apparently her friends were involved. So did that mean...

Did that mean... he stood just as little of a chance as Kazama did?

Wait. No. Wait. If he was thinking about that, if he was wondering about his chances... wasn’t that a step too far? He hadn’t asked the other two to be his wingmen after all. He had only asked for help in figuring out his feelings.

Did that mean he had figured them out after all?

He... what did he want?

Hoshina tried to put it into words, but all he could formulate was one and the same sentence, over and over.  _Not this._

He didn’t want the rumors to be true. Not for Kazama’s sake... and not for his own sake, either. He didn’t want Ubukata to have a crush on Tsukamoto. He... didn’t like that. At all. It felt wrong. Frustrating. Painful, even.

Was he jealous?

Hoshina felt like he already knew the answer to that. This feeling he had... there could be no other name for it. It was jealousy.

And if he was jealous, if the thought of Ubukata liking someone else romantically made him jealous—

_Oh._

Suddenly, from one moment to the other, everything made sense.

And from one moment to the other he also knew what to do. Before he changed his request, before he asked the others to help him win her heart, he needed to find out the truth behind the rumor. No use wondering or hoping until he knew the truth.

The sooner, the better.


	23. Gossip, Destroyed by Truth

Ubukata had just finished her homework when her phone buzzed with a new message.

For a second a flash of dread hit her. The past two days had been so filled with speculation and gossip that she feared it might be Tomo or Kaya again, accidentally doing even more damage. Damn it, she only hoped Kazama and Tsukamoto hadn’t heard of the rumor yet, because if they had, they would be stuck in an endless loop of mutual pining for at least another few years.

The dread quickly disappeared, however, when she looked at the screen.

The message was not from her girls. It wasn’t from anyone else gossiping either. Instead it was from the one person she knew wasn’t involved in this mess.

_Good evening,_  Hoshina’s message read.  _This is a little sudden, but would you like to visit the bookstore again after school tomorrow?_

Ubukata smiled.

Now this was what she valued about the guy, she thought. Direct, honest, and straight to the point. No nonsense, no drama.

It was needless to say that her answer was a solid yes.

\---

“So, boys,” Kimishita’s father said, clapping them both on the shoulder, “that concludes it. I think we have everything we need!”

They had spent the past few hours crowded around the Kimishitas’ small kitchen table, poring over to-do lists, materials, and resources offered by all the people they had visited and talked to over the weekend. Almost everyone they had sought out had agreed to help. Ooshiba had all but lost count of all the storeowners and nice old people they had talked to on the phone throughout the afternoon.

And now they had settled it. They had planned the whole thing out, front to back, and all they needed was a date.

“We should do it on a weekend,” Ooshiba suggested, looking with satisfaction over the messy pile of notes and scribbles and Kimishita’s calculations. “So we can bring everyone.”

“Just the regulars,” Kimishita insisted, though without malice. “I’m not letting fifty people in here at once.”

“Well, but just having the regulars seems a bit unfair to everyone else,” his father butted in, earning himself a stare and baffled, “Pops!” from his son. “No, no, hold on,” he added, raising his hands and laughing. “Why not ask for volunteers? Nobody gets forced, and everyone has a fair chance to come.”

Kimishita looked at Ooshiba. Ooshiba looked at Kimishita.

“Sounds good to me,” Ooshiba said tentatively.

Kimishita nodded and shrugged. “As long as not everyone volunteers.”

“Come on, your team’s already smaller right now,” his father remarked. “Oh! But speaking of, don’t you want to ask the third-years to help too?”

Memories of Kimishita’s uncomfortable degree of  _interest_  in Mizuki popped up in Ooshiba’s head, and he crossed his arms. “Nope.”

“You sure? Some of them look like they could easily—”

“Nope,” Ooshiba said again, more emphatically, just as Kimishita said, “Better not.”

Kimishita’s father blinked in surprise. “Why not?”

“They’re busy with preparing for college,” Kimishita replied. “Besides, most of them would need constant adult supervision.”

“I mean, I could—”

“No, Pops.  _Adult supervision._ ” Kimishita shot his father a meaningful look. “I’m saying they... don’t really know what they’re doing.”

“He means they’re idiots who’d fu—I mean, mess up all the work,” Ooshiba explained, glad to have caught himself before swearing in front of what might just be his future father-in-law. Kimishita’s dad seemed to like him just fine for now, but he should still be careful not to leave a bad impression.

Kimishita snorted. “Like you’re any better.”

“Hey! I coordini—cordi—planned out this whole thing!” Ooshiba pointed angrily at his chest. “I’m way more competent than those guys!”

“Have you ever tried to renovate anything in your life?”

“My fish tank—”

“I mean houses, idiot!  _Houses!_ ”

Ooshiba gave an indignant huff. “Can’t be that hard.”

“ _You_  need adult supervision.”

Ooshiba was just about to retort when a hearty laugh stopped him. Turning around, he saw Kimishita’s father looking back and forth between the two of them, a twinkle of cheer in his eyes.

“Sorry, sorry,” he said, grinning sheepishly at their surprised looks. “You two just get along so well is all.”

They stopped short.

Inch by inch they turned from Kimishita’s father back towards each other, staring in a mixture of embarrassment and baffled surprise.

“We get along?” Ooshiba repeated, too stunned to be delighted for the moment, although he would doubtlessly be overjoyed later.

Kimishita flushed pink, as if embarrassed by the question. “What would  _you_  call this, stupid?”

“I dunno.” Ooshiba shrugged. “We weren’t that buddy-buddy just now.”

“ _Buddy-buddy?_ ”

Ooshiba huffed defensively. “What?”

“Nothing.” Kimishita clicked his tongue. “Can’t believe you used that word.”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“Everything’s wrong with a high school junior using the word  _buddy-buddy_! It’s bad enough that Mizuki-senpai used words like that! I’m getting war flashbacks!”

“Mizuki used way shittier words, asshole!”

There was the fraction of a second where Ooshiba remembered where he was and abruptly realized that he had just sworn, twice, in front of the father of his crush.

“Uh,” he said intelligently. “I mean. Worse words. Uh—”

Kimishita’s father laughed out loud. “Don’t stress over the swearing,” he said, patting Ooshiba’s back. “I’m more than used to it from Atsushi.”

“I don’t swear that much,” Kimishita muttered, coloring pink and clicking his tongue.

“You do,” Ooshiba and Kimishita’s father replied in unison.

“Wha—Don’t gang up on me!” Kimishita glared from one to the other, as if trying to determine who he felt more betrayed by. “And  _you_  have no business saying anything about the way other people talk, Kiichi!”

“I’m just saying the truth!”

“And I’m saying it’s the pot calling the kettle black!”

“Boys, boys,” Kimishita’s father interrupted them, standing up to ruffle both their heads without warning. “No need to argue! You’re free to talk the way you want, there’s no need to impress anyone.” He stepped away from the table. “Now what was that about setting a date?”

Within a moment all bickering was forgotten, and they were in the middle of poring over the calendar and debating the merits of different days.

\---

Ubukata had only put slightly more effort into her appearance than usual, or so she liked to tell herself.

Truth be told, she had spent several minutes in front of the mirror in the girls’ bathroom trying and failing to make her bangs look smoother, but that was completely natural. Hoshina, she told herself, was from a rival school after all, and also a senior; she needed to make a good impression. Besides, a smaller, more embarrassed part of her admitted, she wanted to look good in front of him. Why exactly—that was a question she didn’t want to think about in any amount of detail. It was too likely to raise a number of very uncomfortable truths.

The point was, she hadn’t done anything beyond trying to look slightly more decent, and as she walked towards the school gate she could only hope she had succeeded.

Hoshina was already there when she arrived, as usual. This time she didn’t scold him for waiting outside. It wasn’t as cold as it had been back then; a little longer, she suspected, and spring would be peering through every crack, sprouting and budding under the growing warmth of the sun.

He bowed when he saw her, just like he always did. Part of Ubukata found it rather silly. They were friends after all, in some way, and friends didn’t bow to each other as a greeting. The other part of her didn’t say anything because she also rather liked it.

“Good afternoon,” he said when she arrived. “I hope I didn’t rush you?”

“Not at all,” Ubukata replied, still trying and failing to smooth out that one stubborn strand in her bangs. “Did you wait long?”

Hoshina shook his head. “I just got here.”

Nodding, Ubukata stepped out through the gate and fell into stride next to him. “Are you looking for anything special at the bookstore?” she asked, more to keep the conversation going than anything else. It was a little lame, she felt, but someone as serious as Hoshina didn’t tend to think in such categories.

“Nothing in particular,” he replied, and for a split second she wondered why he had invited her then. She came to the conclusion that she’d rather not think about it. “I just liked the place and wanted to look through it again.”

Ubukata nodded. “How’s college preparation?”

“Fine. I already got accepted.” Dark eyes met with her own, calmly curious. “How’s catching up to classes?”

“I’m getting by,” Ubukata replied. A little embarrassed, she added, “The book you recommended me was very helpful.”

Even from the corner of her eye she could see Hoshina smiling.

“If you need any other recommendations, feel free to ask,” he said. “Not just for school, either. And if you have anything you can recommend me, I’m always open.”

Instinctively Ubukata ran through a list of all the books she had read recently, wondering if any of them were fit to Hoshina’s tastes. And realized she didn’t know them at all.

“I wouldn’t mind,” she said a little awkwardly. “What do you like to read?”

Hoshina thought for a moment. “I like a lot of things, as long as they’re engaging and well-written,” he mused. “But if I have to pick a genre, I guess I’ll go with fantasy.”

Ubukata blinked in surprise. Out of all the things she could have imagined serious, straight-laced Hoshina liking, this wasn’t one of them. “Why fantasy?”

“It takes you to different worlds,” Hoshina answered matter-of-factly. “I always like it when books let you meet people and places you wouldn’t have known otherwise. It’s a little like exploring the world.”

“It is!”

Hoshina blinked at her, and Ubukata went pink. The outburst had escaped her before she could stop it.

“Sorry,” she muttered, hiding her treacherous face behind her hand. “It’s just... I know exactly what you’re talking about.” A small smile crossed her face despite her best efforts to stop it. “It’s like you can go anywhere just by opening a book.”

“Learn anything,” Hoshina added. “Meet anyone.”

Ubukata nodded. Another question hovered on the tip of her tongue. One that felt quite silly to ask. But with how well they were understanding each other, maybe she should just take the risk.

“Have you...” Her voice came out stiff and rather too quiet. “Have you ever tried... to write a story yourself?”

She had to be cherry-red, she knew it. But when Hoshina met her gaze, there was nothing judging in it. Only surprise and interest.

“Not really,” he said. “I’m not much of a creative person.”

Ubukata nodded quietly. That, she thought, she had expected.

“What about you?”

She almost jumped, startled even though she should have seen the question coming. “Huh?”

Hoshina’s eyes still rested on her face, dark and serious and velvety, pulling her in. “Have you ever tried to write?”

“I...”

She could lie.

“I... yes.” Screw it all, she thought, might as well risk it. “I used to write... all the way through middle school.”

Her face was definitely on fire by now. But she didn’t regret it. There was something about Hoshina that made it so terrifyingly  _easy_  to admit all the things she normally wouldn’t be caught dead saying out loud.

“I even wanted to get published,” she babbled on, unsure where she was going with this in the first place. “But I kept getting rejected, and in the end I gave up.” She made a dismissive gesture. “Guess I prefer reading, anyway.”

Hoshina was quiet for a little too long for comfort.

Squirming, she looked up, half dreading what she would see. “I–Is something... the matter?”

“I’m just confused.” Hoshina furrowed his brow. “You wrote in middle school, and you worried about the rejections you got?”

Well. Phrased like this, it did sound a little stupid.

“I felt like I had no talent,” she muttered in the general direction of the ground. “I mean, other people did get published at that age, so clearly—”

“Maybe they started earlier,” Hoshina finished the sentence.

Ubukata blinked.

“Some people start writing in elementary school,” Hoshina said simply. “Of course they were likely to be ahead of you in middle school. Just like you’d be ahead of those who don’t start until high school.”

A wry smile crossed Ubukata’s face. “You don’t believe in talent, then?”

“I believe it exists.” They stopped at a traffic light, and Hoshina looked across the street. “But I know it doesn’t matter nearly as much as what you make of it.”

The memory of her middle school stories flashed through Ubukata’s head, cringey but beloved, full of inspiration and enthusiasm and unrefined soul. If she took those again, she thought, if she continued to work on them for another year, or two, or three... where would she end up? Could she still be good enough to get published? Did she even want to?

“Besides,” Hoshina mused on as the traffic light turned green and they crossed the road, “even if publishers reject you, isn’t online publishing a thing?”

Ubukata squirmed. She wasn’t, and had never been, too keen on the idea of exposing her writing to the general public before it had been approved as good enough to publish properly.

“I guess it is,” she said evasively.

They stopped at the next traffic light; the crossing was not on their side today. Hoshina stepped onto Ubukata’s other side to stand between her and the passing cars. “Not comfortable publishing that way?”

Damn, she had been too obvious. “Not really.”

“I’m not saying you have to write again or publish anything,” Hoshina said as a car rushed past them. “I just think it’s a shame you gave up.”

_Well, me too,_  Ubukata thought, but didn’t say it out loud.

What she did say was, “Maybe I’ll give it a try again someday. When I have time.”

Hoshina smiled.

The light turned green. They crossed the road. Ubukata suddenly realized that she didn’t have to hurry to keep up with Hoshina’s stride, even though he was almost a head taller than she was. Glancing down, she found that he was matching his steps to hers.

Unnecessary, she thought. Then again, knowing Hoshina, he might not even be doing it on purpose.

Silence fell as they walked on. Ubukata half considered telling Hoshina about her stories. They were horribly embarrassing, and never in a million years would she actually do it. But if she had to tell anyone, part of her felt like Hoshina Takumi was a safe person to tell.

The rest of her was smarter than that. She was a first-year, he was close to graduation, and all her beloved stories very noticeably came from middle school. She already had to be half a child in his eyes, even if he didn’t treat her like one. No need to ruin her reputation completely.

In silence they reached the bookshop from last time, and at the entrance Hoshina suddenly stopped.

“Before we go inside,” he said, “do you mind if I ask you a question?”

Ubukata turned around. Hoshina stood a few steps away, his hair blowing in the wind, his dark eyes staring right into her own, full of a sudden earnest resolve. Her heart skipped a beat. Instinctively she held her breath as time around them came to a still.

“You’ll ask me how I know this,” Hoshina said, “but people are saying you have feelings for Tsukamoto.”

Ubukata blinked and then flushed with a mixture of shock and anger. Hoshina had heard the rumor?  _Hoshina_  had? If it had spread that far, then who the hell else had heard of it?

Damn that Tomo and Kaya. She was going to strangle them for blabbing about her business so loudly. Of course people had overheard and jumped to conclusions! Oh, fantastic. That meant Tsukamoto and Kazama had heard it too, and that meant at least another year of suffering their mutual pining until the misunderstanding was cleared.

But... why was Hoshina of all people asking her about that?

“They’re saying that,” she said diplomatically. “I know.”

“Is it true?”

Ubukata looked up at Hoshina’s face, trying to read his tone and expression. It was no good. Whatever he was thinking or feeling, he had to be very good at keeping it to himself.

But at least, she thought, he was looking interested enough to maybe believe her when she told him the truth.

“It’s not,” she said, calmly and honestly. “My friends misunderstood a few things and jumped to conclusions. Tsukamoto has his own person he likes and all I want is for them to stop being stupid and confess already. And,” she added, lowering her head and blushing, “he’s not really my type.”

“I see.”

There was something strange in Hoshina’s voice, something that Ubukata, if she didn’t know better, might have called relief. As it was, she didn’t know what it was. There was no good reason for Hoshina Takumi to be relieved she wasn’t in love with Tsukamoto after all.

Slowly she glanced up again, searching his face for clues. “You believe me?”

He blinked in surprise. “Why shouldn’t I?”

Ubukata paused for a moment. If only she had told her girls about him, she thought. Then she could rub it in their faces now, how they had refused to believe her and to him it didn’t even occur that she could have been lying.

Then she smiled.

“No good reason.”

\---

Hoshina returned from the bookstore, after having accompanied Ubukata for a good part of the way home, with a lot of thoughts swirling in his head.

So Ubukata wasn’t in love with Tsukamoto. That was a good thing. It didn’t necessarily mean he had a chance himself, but at the very least he had room to hope. He could officially say it now, to himself and to others: He was in love with Ubukata Chikako, and he had the faint hope that someday she would like him back.

For the time being he was content going on like this, except maybe observing her a little closer. He wished he had used the opportunity and asked her what her type was, since Tsukamoto evidently wasn’t. Oh well, not the end of the world. Maybe it would come up again at some point in the future.

But among all the things she had said, something else had caught his interest.

_Tsukamoto has his own person he likes._

Kazama hadn’t said anything about that. Only that Tsukamoto liked girls. Did he not know? Did Ubukata know something about Tsukamoto that Kazama, his own best friend, did not?

Whatever it was, it was probably worth mentioning.


	24. Three Idiots and a Renovation

The Smitten Guys Anonymous were quickly becoming not so anonymous at the usual table in their usual family restaurant. They were about one or two visits away from all the staff knowing their names and giving them their regular orders without asking.

Presently they were gathered together again, same restaurant, same table, same time, same drinks, same everything. But not quite the same state of uncertain misery as before.

Kiichiman was an absolute pain in the neck. Things were apparently going great with Kimishita, which was awesome for him but completely insufferable for everyone else, even when it didn’t rub their own heartbreak in their faces like it did for Kazama. He was so cheerful and utterly smug and spaced out that he had nearly knocked over a table twice on the way here from the restaurant entrance.

And then there was Hoshina, who had brought them all here with the promise of good news.

“Okay, spill,” Kazama said, slurping his drink. “What are your good news? Say ‘em before Kiichiman gets even more annoying.”

Kiichiman temporarily snapped out of his happy daze to pout at him. “I’m not annoying,” he said. “You’re just jealous.”

_For once you’re right,_  Kazama thought, but didn’t say it out loud.

“Pretty big words for somebody who still hasn’t asked his crush out,” was what he did say, somewhat smugly himself.

It took a good second for Kiichiman to process the words, and then less than a second for him to turn a telltale shade of red. “I’m waiting for the right time, asshole!”

“So you’re just a chicken and you’re procrastinati—”

“Am not! And you haven’t asked out Tsukamoto either.” Kiichiman gave a triumphant huff. “So there!”

Kazama winced inwardly. That one had stung. Badly.

“Look, my situation’s different,” he said flippantly. “Stuff happened. I need to figure that out first and then see what I do. Anyways,” he added with forcible cheerfulness before anyone could reply, “what were the good news again? Find out the truth about our manager and her crush?”

Hoshina nodded. “I did.”

Kazama blinked, unable to hide his surprise. “That was fast,” he said. “What the hell did you do, ask her or something?”

“Of course,” Hoshina replied, looking confused. “What else should I have done?”

“What, and she just told you? Just like that?”

“Why shouldn’t she?”

Kazama stared. Then, without warning, he burst out laughing.

“Are you kidding me?” he exclaimed. “She’s Say-the-wrong-thing-and-I-kill-you Ubukata-san, and you just went to her and  _asked_? And she just answered? Normally?” He sank backwards into his seat. “Dude, that’s amazing!”

Hoshina furrowed his brow. “I really don’t see why you think she’s that hostile.”

“Rose-colored glasses, man. Or just favoritism from her end.” Kazama winked. “Anyway, what’d she say?”

“She’s not in love with Tsukamoto.”

“Figures,” said Kazama, torn between relief and skepticism. “But did she mean it?”

“I’m pretty sure she did. She said he isn’t her type. Going by her tone, she was telling the truth.” Kazama breathed a sigh of relief, and Hoshina went on. “And,” he said, glancing at Kazama with a curious look in his eyes, “she said Tsukamoto already has someone he likes.”

Kazama, who had just taken a sip from his soda, almost choked on his drink.

“She didn’t,” he spluttered.

“She did. Verbatim.” Hoshina’s face tensed in thought as he continued. “ _Tsukamoto has his own person he likes and all I want is for them to stop being stupid and confess already._  That’s what she told me.”

There was a very long silence.

“Huh,” said Kazama, speechless for once.

“Are you sure?” he added after a pause.

“Absolutely.”

“Are you sure  _she’s_  sure?”

Hoshina nodded. “She sounded like it.”

“Huh,” Kazama said again.

Truth be told, he was currently in no state to form words, let alone coherent sentences. His brain was too busy trying to process the information as different emotions warred in his head, and he wasn’t sure what to say until he knew which one triumphed.

Personally, he would bet on confusion.

So Ubukata had said that. Either that, or Hoshina was making stuff up (extremely unlikely; Kazama wasn’t sure Hoshina Takumi was capable of lying), or else he was making the mistake of the century (given how accurately he remembered her words, equally unlikely). In short, Ubukata actually had said that. Unprompted. Which meant she had probably meant it. Okay. Okay. Cool.

What the  _hell?_

Tsukushi liked someone? Or rather, Ubukata believed he did? What was he missing? Had she figured something out, or else thought she had figured it out? Was there a huge misunderstanding going on somewhere? Or... had Tsukushi possibly told her?

In any case, how did she know something about Tsukushi that Kazama, his best friend, didn’t?

Well, said a voice in his head, that was a bit hypocritical. He hadn’t exactly told Tsukushi much about his own crush either.

Except he had a good excuse. The object of his affections  _was_  Tsukushi, and best friend or not, there was absolutely no way in hell he could possibly tell him about that. But he—

_Wait a minute._

If, possibly, hypothetically, Tsukushi was the same, and the reason he hadn’t told Kazama was because—

Nope! Nope. No thinking that. Tsukushi did  _not_  swing his way. He had said so himself, so this wasn’t an option. And that meant—

Unless, said the annoying wishful thinking part of his brain, he hadn’t been entirely truthful there.

Kazama shut that part down, bound and gagged it and dropped it into the abyss of things he tried very hard not to think about.

But that aside...

Ubukata thought Tsukushi liked someone. But who the hell did she even think he liked? It had to be someone who seemed to like him back, and it had to be someone she knew. Someone who, in her presence, was around Tsukushi enough to give her the impression that Tsukushi liked them, and they liked Tsukushi back.

All the signs, shaped like gigantic, bright red, blinking neon arrows, pointed to exactly one person.

Who couldn’t be it. For very obvious reasons.

That should mean one of two things. One, Ubukata had been referring to him, but she had been very, very mistaken. Two, Ubukata had meant someone else, like, say, a girl, and it was Kazama who hadn’t been paying attention.

...That was ludicrous. He was always paying attention to Tsukushi.

So that meant she had misinterpreted their relationship, and that was the end of it. Most likely, anyway. No, definitely. There were no girls in Tsukushi’s and Ubukata’s life who could give off the impression that there was something going on, and the person had to be a girl, or else it would fall into the same vein as Ubukata assuming the person was Kazama. In any case there was probably, no, definitely no one to worry about. Right... where had he been going with this?

Oh right. Logic. Trying to figure out what the hell Ubukata had been talking about.

Realizing he either had absolutely no idea, or if he did, his idea couldn’t possibly be right.

And inwardly panicking, because the more he thought about it, the more he realized he didn’t know anything.

“...Kazama?”

He gave a start. Wait, how long had he been spacing out for? “Yeah, yeah,” he said. “I was just trying to make sense of what she said. It doesn’t make any though, so I’m just gonna ignore it.”

“You could ask her what it means,” Kiichiman said bluntly.

A very nice, simple solution.

And also very stupid.

“Sure!” Kazama said with a loud laugh. “Lemme just do it. ‘Hey, so I heard from Touin’s Hoshina that you said Tsukushi has somebody he likes, care to elaborate on that? And if you’re wondering how I know, it’s ‘cause he and I and Kiichiman have all teamed up to help each other win our crushes and you’re the one he likes. But forget about that one, what about Tsukushi?’ Easy-peasy!”

Kiichiman sulked. “You could’ve just said no, asshole,” he muttered.

Kazama grinned at him. “I always wanted to say a line like that.”

“I could ask her,” Hoshina suggested before Kiichiman could pick a fight.

For a moment Kazama was actually tempted to take him up on the offer.

Then his common sense caught up.

“Hold up,” he said. “Just like that? A whole day later, when you barely know Tsukushi in the first place? Totally not suspicious.”

Hoshina shrugged lightly. “What’s the problem? It’s not the end of the world if she finds out you like Tsukamoto, if she doesn’t know already.”

“Yeah, that’s not the issue,” Kazama said, grimacing slightly. Something told him she probably did know; Ubukata was sharp like that. “The problem’s that she might find out about our little conspiracy here.”

Hoshina furrowed his brow. “That’s true.”

“You could tell her about the... the whole wingman shit,” Kiichiman piped in, gesturing vaguely. “But not that it’s her you like. Just that you’re helping Kazama and stuff—”

“Nope! Nope,” Kazama cut him off. “Nobody’s telling anybody any more vague stuff about liking somebody. That totally backfired the last couple times.”

There was a long, long, long pause.

At last Hoshina spoke again. “Maybe I don’t have to tell her about the wingman business.”

The other two looked up from their drinks.

“I could say I ran into you and Tsukamoto a few times, and her comment made me think,” he continued, simple and straightforward, like he was suggesting the most normal thing in the world. “And now I’m wondering if she meant you two by any chance.”

Kazama brought up a hand to cover his mouth. Even without a mirror he could tell his face was on fire.

“That’s so shady,” he said, hiding his embarrassment with joking dramatics.

Hoshina frowned at him, the slightest hint of impatience seeping into his voice. “Do you have any better ideas?”

“I dunno.” Kazama shrugged. “I can just accept that Tsukushi’s not into me and leave this whole thing alone?”

Kiichiman looked back and forth between one and the other, confusion dawning on his face.

“Tsukamoto?” he repeated with the baffled tone of someone realizing he had been left out of the loop about something important. “Not into you?”

Kazama mentally slapped himself for not telling them both properly. So much for pretending to be fine and handling things on his own. They had been roped into this, and one way or another they were now part of the whole disaster as much as he was.

He sighed.

“Look,” he said, “it’s kind of a long story.”

He just hoped Kiichiman wouldn’t sulk too badly after he explained the whole thing.

\---

Tsukushi had been trying his hardest to act normal around Kazama, but it was difficult, more difficult than ever.

Their conversation kept haunting him, haunting his thoughts even when he was supposed to think of something different, something much more important. Individual sentences kept replaying in his mind as he spun them round and round in his head, trying and failing to figure out what to think of them.

_You’re sweet, you’re caring, hardworking, honest, and you’re a good friend. A lot of people look for that in a guy._

_Sweet and caring and adorable, and he works really hard to make his friends and family happy ‘cause he loves them so much._

These descriptions... was he imagining things, or did they sound eerily similar?

No, he definitely wasn’t. The qualities Kazama had listed when telling him why he was worthy of love were almost identical to his description of the guy he liked. He couldn’t possibly have done that by accident... could he?

It was so possible. So entirely possible. And yet... Tsukushi couldn’t believe it truly meant anything. It sounded too good to be true. Too deceptively hopeful, too much like wishful thinking that only made sense through rose-colored glasses.

No. If there was any connection between the two remarks, it only meant that Kazama valued certain traits in a person, both his friends and his crushes. That was all. That was it, and he should calm down and stop overthinking already.

Except, something whispered in his head, even if the person Kazama liked currently wasn’t Tsukushi... if he had these traits too, could he maybe have a chance?

The moment he caught himself having the thought, Tsukushi did his very best to delete it from existence. It wasn’t that simple. He knew it wasn’t. Love was more than just falling for everyone who fit a certain laundry list of traits. Love was complicated, and confusing, and unexplainable, and...

...and long story short, it didn’t help him one bit that he was Kazama’s type personality-wise if he was so plain and boring and all-around  _Tsukushi_.

Even Kazama hadn’t denied it. He had listed some lovable qualities of his, yes, but he hadn’t denied he was plain. To be fair, Tsukushi hadn’t exactly used the word himself. But still...

Was he overthinking?

Tsukushi knew himself well enough to tell that the answer was yes. If he had to ask himself that, he had already gone way past simple overthinking and ventured into the territory of making himself lose his mind. But what was he supposed to do? He couldn’t help it!

Should he hope?

Should he not?

Probably not. He wouldn’t let wishful thinking deceive him. Kazama liked someone else, someone he couldn’t possibly keep up with. No matter how many signs seemed to point in the opposite direction. He wouldn’t believe them. Not a single one.

But that changed nothing about his feelings.

It was an obvious realization, but all the heavier on his heart. Screw denying his emotions, he couldn’t do that anymore. Screw pretending not to understand how he felt. He did. He did. And now that reality had struck him, there was no going back.

He loved Kazama.

Even if Kazama didn’t like him back.

Even if he never would.

Even if it was hopeless.

He loved Kazama Jin, loved him from the very bottom of his heart. He had no hope that his feelings would be returned, now or ever. But he loved him all the same.

And it hurt. Badly.

But no matter what happened, he didn’t want to move on.

\---

In all the years he had lived and helped out here, Kimishita had never seen his family’s shop so crowded.

Not the whole team had come, so that was the good part. The bad news was that the volunteers were still a great deal more people than he had expected, let alone hoped for. There were at least thirty people in here, all highly motivated to help and at least twenty-five of them highly likely to make a mess before the evening.

Oh, this was going to be a complete nightmare. But probably, hopefully, worth it.

_Hopefully._

The more he looked at this place crawling like an anthill with high schoolers, neighbors, neighbors’ relatives, and random strangers he had never seen before in his life, the less confident he was.

“Didn’t we organize that great?” said a voice over his shoulder.

Kimishita didn’t need to spin around to recognize the speaker, but he did anyway. “Kiichi,” he said, not at all startled. “You really think these people can renovate the store without breaking the house down?”

Kiichi nodded confidently. “Yup.”

Kimishita watched Kurusu, Nitobe and Shiratori squabble over who had to carry a heavy bucket of paint, shoving it back and forth between each other’s arms. “I have my doubts,” he muttered.

“Why? They’re good.”

“Are they.”

“Yup.”

“Are they  _really_.”

Kiichi nodded again. “Sure,” he said. “Stop being so grumpy. When we’re done here it’s gonna look amazing.”

Kimishita sighed.

“If you say so,” he said. “I just hope they won’t yell too much. Or break anything. I’m just glad I already hid everything I could.”

“Nothing’s gonna happen, asshole!”

“That’s what I hope, idiot!”

“Boys, boys,” an all-too-familiar voice interrupted their bickering. “You’ve made it this far, be nice to each other!”

Kimishita turned around to find his father dressed in a painter’s overalls, complete with colorful stains, balancing entirely too many buckets and tools and  _things_  at once.

“Let me take that, Pops,” he said, reaching for about half of the load. “You’ll drop something.”

“Me too,” Kiichi said without warning and did the same.

Kimishita forgot about his own attempts to help in favor of staring at him in disbelief.

“What?” Kiichi asked defensively.

“Since when are you so eager to help?”

“Since—uh.” Kiichi trailed off, looking like he had almost said something he shouldn’t say out loud. “Since I became captain,” he said after a pause.

Kimishita clicked his tongue. “That again?”

“You got a problem?”

Kimishita blinked, then lowered his gaze.

“Not really,” he admitted. “It’s just... unusual.”

“Oh yeah? Then I’m gonna help so much it’s gonna become usual!”

“That’s not what I meant! You’re doing enough as-is!”

“Says who?”

“I say that! Any more and I’ll feel like a toddler!”

Kiichi pouted at him. “It’s nice to get spoiled.”

“For you brat, maybe.” Kimishita gave him a look that hung halfway between amusement, fondness and annoyance. “I prefer doing most things myself.”

“Workaholic.”

“You don’t get to talk, lazy ass.”

“Not lazy anymore.”

Kimishita sighed. “Point taken. Like I said, I’m still getting used to it.”

Kiichi cracked a grin. Kimishita allowed himself to smile back. He had to admit, he did rather like this new Kiichi. Which wasn’t to say he hadn’t already liked the old one a great deal, somehow, in a very weird sort of way. Or maybe not weird at all. Deep down, to his embarrassment, he had always known that Ooshiba Kiichi really was a good guy and, if he made even the tiniest effort to not be a complete ass, rather likable.

So yes, fine, he had always liked Kiichi. But he liked this particular Kiichi even more because he was finally becoming the person Kimishita had always known he had the potential to be.

But that was a thought he could pursue later. For now he needed to get this started officially, for better or for worse.

“Everyone!” he shouted, lapsing into a more formal tone for the sake of the adults in the room. “Can I have a word?”

Most people went silent. Some of the first-years, however, continued to squabble.

“Hey, brats!” Kiichi shouted before Kimishita could chide them. “Kimishita’s trying to say something, so listen up, dipshits.”

“Language, idiot!” Kimishita hissed and jabbed an elbow in his ribcage, though he also gave him a grateful glance as the kids finally shut up.

“First of all,” he said to the group, “let’s assign the tasks. There are two main jobs. Fixing the storefront and renovating the inside.”

“Pick whatever you want,” Kiichi added. “But if too many people wanna do one thing, we’re not gonna let you.”

Kimishita’s father piped in, “Do we have everything we need?”

Everyone carrying tools and materials nodded.

“Then let’s give out the tasks! Who wants to do the storefront?”

One by one all the jobs were assigned, for the most part to Kimishita’s satisfaction. Almost every task, or at least every important task, went to someone who could hopefully handle it without messing up. And even if they themselves were a liability, at least all of them were paired up with people who knew what they were doing.

“Done,” Kiichi said at last when everyone had a job. “Now what do we do?”

“Isn’t that obvious?” Kimishita glanced up at him. “We go from task to task and keep an eye on everything.”

“So we’re captaining the whole thing?”

“ _Supervising_ , stupid,” Kimishita replied with a snort. “But yeah. Essentially we’re the captains of this renovation team.”

Kiichi nodded, looking satisfied. “Good. Then let’s—”

He stopped short, his eyes falling on something a few feet away. “Tsukamoto,” he said, “you’re helping with the store sign?”

The first year gave a start, then a confused nod. “Um, yes,” he said. “Why?”

“Who's working with you?”

He tilted his head. “Eh?”

“On the sign,” Kiichi explained. “Who else is helping?”

“Oh, um, that’s Kazama-kun—”

“Switch with Ubukata.”

Several people all gaped at him at once.

“Huh?” Ubukata asked, the first to regain her speech. “What are you on about, I can’t even paint—”

“Switch,” Kiichi repeated.

“But,” said Kazama.

“No buts,” Kiichi cut him off. “Tsukamoto. Switch with Ubukata.”

Tsukamoto looked confused, but he obliged. Kazama watched him go with visible regret on his face. It was bad enough to make even Kimishita feel sorry for the two.

“Hey,” he whispered to Kiichi. “What are you playing at?”

Kiichi only gave him a smug, very cryptic smile.

“You’ll see.”


End file.
